Hit in the Heart
by UnityInDiversity
Summary: Castle and Beckett try to solve the murder of a twenty-one year old boy, found dead in a construction site. He, however, isn't the only one who got hit in the heart...
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: **Castle and all the characters therein are owned by ABC. Thus, anything you recognize doesn't belong to me.

**Author's note:** as English is not my first language, I appreciate correction and comments!

* * *

**Chapter One**

* * *

Detective Kate Beckett stepped out of the elevator and onto the precinct's fourth floor, before making her way across the bullpen in the feminine yet determined stride that was so characteristic of her. As her workstation came into sight, she had to suppress a smile. Yet another morning and there he was, bright and early. She actually began to get used to the image of him sitting beside her desk, waiting for her with a grin on his face and a steaming cup of coffee in his hand. And what an image; he was a sight for sore eyes. There was no denying that, no matter how much she tried when asked.

There was just something about Richard Castle, the famous murder-mystery novelist, who followed her around for inspiration for his latest book series. Or so he had everyone believe. Beckett had a slight suspicion that he found the police work — chasing and arresting the bad guys — more exciting than sitting behind his laptop at home typing up stories the entire day. She, in turn, found his novels quite exciting. His work had found its way onto her bookshelves long before he'd begun shadowing her and very prominently so. They were in fact an important part of her personal library, especially since they had helped her through trying times. She also couldn't deny — but was glad he didn't seem to remember — that she had stood in line for an hour during one of his book signing sessions to acquire a signed copy of _Through The Storm_, Castle's fourteenth novel and her absolute favorite.

When Beckett reached her desk, Castle held out the cup of coffee that had apparently been waiting for her on top of a pile of case files. "Good morning, Detective."

She accepted the drink from him with an appreciative smile. "Thanks."

"Skim latte, vanilla flavored," he remarked, still somewhat proud he knew exactly what she liked to drink in the morning. The afternoons were a different matter, he'd found out. Her preferred choice was either black coffee or cappuccino with a dusting of cinnamon. Late at night, she was known to drink several double espressos, trying to stay awake and solve a case. He was simply astonished by that fact. He enjoyed a good espresso, too, but after two servings he could be found climbing the curtains. It wasn't what you would call a good idea, or so his daughter had kindly informed him on one occasion. He was hyper enough as it was. "So, do we have a case?"

Shaking her head, Beckett sat down. "Not as far as I know. I have paperwork to do, though," she answered him, booting up her computer.

"How exciting."

Beckett looked at him with slightly narrowed eyes. Apparently, the sarcasm was already dripping heavily that morning. "It's part of the job, Castle. Maybe not in Nikki Heat's world," she told him, referencing the heroine of the novel he was currently working on. Castle had based the character on her and, in that sense, Nikki Heat was thus her literary alter ego. "But it _is_ in the real world."

"Hmm, I'm sure Nikki Heat does paperwork as well, I just choose not to write about it. She might have a couple of minions doing it for her," Castle mused. "On the other hand, now that I think about it, I might incorporate it if she did the paperwork in her lingerie..."

"I'd read _that_ book," Javier Esposito remarked as he and Kevin Ryan walked up to the pair, the latter nodding in agreement.

Beckett glanced up from her computer screen, sending them all a glare. It really was a men's world down at Precinct 12. She hoped that the other two detectives, at least, came bearing good news.

"What's up boys?" Castle asked as he smacked hands with them.

"We've got a case," Ryan informed them both.

"Where?" Beckett wanted to know as she pushed her chair back in order to allow her room to stand up.

"Central Park, just off West Drive and West 67th Street."

"I guess that means no paperwork in sexy lingerie today. Too bad, it could've been good," Castle said jokingly, getting out of his seat as well. "Black lace, stocking suspenders…"

"In your dreams, Castle," Beckett replied firmly, cutting him off.

"Oh, you bet," he grinned.

Beckett shook her head. "Get your dirty mind out of the gutter and let's get going, okay?"

With that, the foursome left the bullpen. They took the elevator downstairs and headed outside towards the car park in front of the station building. Momentarily, five cruisers stood parked diagonally out front along with two SWAT vans.

"Shotgun," Castle exclaimed, sprinting over to the police car assigned to Beckett. Since all the dark blue Ford Crown Victorias looked indistinguishable from each other and there were no car numbers visible on the sides of the cruisers, he had remembered her license plate by heart for these kinds of situations. A child at heart, he stood eagerly waiting by the passenger's door, a grin on his face, happy by the prospect of not having to ride in the backseat of the car like some kind of criminal. He didn't quite understand why Beckett's fellow detectives weren't in a bigger hurry or raced him for the seat, until he noticed them walking over to another Crown Vic. Then it all became clear to him and the grin disappeared as quickly as it had come. "You could've told me we'd be taking two cars," he muttered and shook his head in disappointment. "Typical cop humor…"

"No, just the typical assumption of a writer," Beckett replied and the other two laughed with gusto. "You know the boys have their own cruiser. Just like you know I won't ever let you drive."

"Right."

As the laughter began to die down, the four of them climbed into their respective vehicles and headed out to the west side of Central Park. Beckett and Castle took the lead with Esposito and Ryan hot on their tail.

"So, you won't _ever _let me drive?" Castle asked Beckett, who just glanced at him in reply. "Not even when you're hurt and I need to take you to a hospital?"

Out of Castle's eyesight, Beckett smiled to herself as she looked over her left shoulder to inspect the busy New York traffic. "That's what ambulances are for, but yeah, there might be one or two exceptions," she told him, taking a sharp left turn.

Castle held onto the car handle for dear life. "Good to know."

"I wouldn't get your hopes up."

"I'll change your mind."

"You've said that before."

Castle thought about her response for a moment. She was right, he had. One more to add to the list. He decided it would be better to change the subject and his thoughts shifted to the case at hand. It wouldn't be the first Central Park case he'd be shadowing Beckett on and he was pretty sure it wouldn't be the last.

"You know, the very first murder in Central Park occurred in 1870, the year its construction was completed," Castle shared his knowledge, unsolicited as usual. "I guess it's never really been safe place. But you know, no matter how many murders take place there, it's still a great park." Castle let out a chuckle. "Oh, the wild times I've had there..."

"Do I really need to know?" Beckett asked, even though she was more than a little curious to hear his stories. She couldn't help it. The man was anything but boring and led an interesting life. While she was rather content with her own, up to a certain point, there were definitely times she envied his charming and gregarious personality and the situations said character trait led him into.

"I don't know about _need_ per se… You'd probably roll your eyes at me," Castle grinned. "As you normally do."

"You usually give me plenty reason to."

Castle ignored her reply and decided to tell his story anyway. "There was this party once... Well, there were a lot of parties back in the day of course, but this one was especially crazy. Seemed like every New Yorker knew about it, even though there was a guest list. I suppose the bouncers were easily bribed. But the more the merrier, I say. Anyway, the party lasted for two days. Started Friday night and didn't end until Sunday morning. Let's just say, you can't make it that long sober. And there was a fashion theme of some sort. It was the mid nineties, so probably something grunge or leather-y, but all I remember is seeing a lot of bellybutton rings…"

"Yeah, it was grunge."

"Hmm, that could be right," Castle said pensively, then widened his eyes in surprise. "How do _you_ know? Don't tell me you were there, too."

"If we're talking about the same party, then yeah. I crashed it with a group of girlfriends. You were right, the bouncers were easily bribed," Beckett told him, a smile playing on her lips. It did her good to know that the one time she had ever crashed a party and had done something on the wild side — lived a little, her friend Madison had called it — Castle had been there too and, above all, it apparently had been one of the craziest parties he'd ever attended. That meant something. However, when her parents had found out, she'd been grounded for a month and had gone back to being the goody-two-shoes she normally was, which suited her better. That didn't mean she didn't have a good time anymore, just nothing to get grounded for that long.

Castle was utterly intrigued by her admission and looked at her with admiration. "I keep saying this, but you're a constant surprise, Detective."

"Meh, we were all young once," she shrugged. "Some a little bit longer than others…"

"I have no idea to whom you might be referring," he replied, giving her the most innocent look he could muster. "But who knows, we might have actually run into each other back then. Imagine that."

Pondering the possibility, Beckett parked the car on West Drive and West 67th Street. She looked out of the window to her right, past Castle, and saw that Esposito was doing the same. "Well, in that case, Castle, you didn't exactly leave a lasting impression on me," she teased, cutting the engine. After a quick glance at him, she opened the car door, which was the reason he was unable to see her grin. "Sorry."

"Ouch, you really know how to hurt a guy," Castle grumbled as they both stepped out of the police car.

"Trouble in paradise?" Ryan, having overheard the author's last remark, jokingly asked as he and Esposito joined the pair.

"Little bit," Castle answered, but didn't elaborate further, much to Beckett's relief.

Without another word, the four of them walked into the park and headed towards the small crowd that had gathered there by now. Medical Examiner Lanie Parish saw them approach and walked up to the quartet, meeting them halfway.

"Hey Lanie, what have you got for us?" Beckett asked her friend.

"A false report, I'm afraid."

Beckett frowned. "Really? Then why the crowd?"

"Well, apparently a homeless man who drank himself into a stupor is still an attraction to some people," Parish explained, rolling her eyes. "Anyhow, we found him here in a diabetic coma. The passerby who called it in mistook him for dead."

"Easy mistake, I guess," Ryan commented with a slight shrug.

"He still here?" Beckett wanted to know.

The medical examiner shook her head. "No, it was an anonymous call."

"Probably a jogger who didn't want any trouble," Esposito remarked.

Parish nodded. "That's my guess as well."

"Alright. So, what happens next?" Castle inquired.

"Well, since the man was unconscious when we found him, the ambulance personnel injected him with glucagon to reverse the insulin effects. He has come back to his senses, but they'll take him to the hospital just to be sure," Parish answered.

"So, we're done here?" Castle asked, looking at Beckett now for confirmation.

"Yes, back to writing reports."

"Oh, joy."

**)()()()(**

When Castle and the three detectives had returned to the Precinct, they clued in Captain Roy Montgomery about the false report. After some small talk between the Captain and Castle – mostly poker related – they all went out for a quick lunch and then it was time to go back to work, in this case that meant administrative duties.

As per usual, Castle sat down on the chair beside Beckett's desk and merely observed her as she typed up an official police report on her computer. During this process, Castle's thoughts frequently drifted off to his latest novel and its possible plotlines. He grabbed a little notebook from his pocket and jotted down the day's events. Not that he was planning on integrating the diabetic coma mix-up situation into his book, but one never knew when such information could come in handy, thus he wrote down the basic facts, which was mostly everything that Lanie Parish had told him that morning.

Putting the notebook back into his pocket, he shifted his attention back to his muse. The look of concentration on her face as she typed away captivated him for some reason. Perhaps, he thought, she was at her most beautiful when she was so focused on her work that she wasn't aware anyone was watching her, when she momentarily forgot he was shadowing her. He loved the way her hair swung with her every move as she shifted her glance between her computer screen and the thick file on her desk. His eyes never left her. Apparently, she did sense his eyes upon her and she turned to look at him, her green eyes meeting his blue ones. She smiled at him for a short moment, but then went back to work. Castle was surprised by the lack of reprimand he received.

A few moments later, Beckett looked his way once again. She grabbed another file off the rather large pile on her desk and handed it to him. "Here's something to occupy yourself with."

"An official police report? Pictures and all?" he commented excitedly as he opened the file and quickly flipped through the documents it contained.

"Yeah. Who knows, it might give you some ideas for your next book," she replied. "As long as you don't use any real names and such."

"Of course."

She nodded, satisfied with his answer, then returned to her own file and began typing again. Castle found the incident report and, being a writer at heart, he started on the second page, which contained the narrative. It turned out to be a relatively straightforward deadly robbery and thus provided him with little intriguing facts. Cases of the garden variety just weren't interesting material for a writer such as himself. He sighed in disappointment and wondered why Beckett hadn't given him a more unusual case as she had more than enough of them. They were her specialty, after all. Like her, those were the kind of cases he preferred. He closed the file and placed it back on her desk.

Castle looked around the bullpen and noticed that all of Beckett's colleagues were busy as well. On the one hand that was a good sign as his tax dollars were hard at work, on the other hand, it didn't break the slight boredom of just sitting there and watching Beckett work, no matter how beautiful she was to look at.

When Castle sighed a second time, Beckett couldn't help but look up and over at him. Her eyebrows raised, she looked him a question.

"How much longer?" he asked her.

"A while."

"Why don't we go for a drink or something?"

Skeptical about the seriousness of his suggestion, she looked at him for an instant. "This is my _job_, remember? I'm paid to do this work. I can't just ditch it whenever I feel like it," she told him and, for some reason unbeknownst to her, he started grinning. Beckett couldn't for the life of her figure out what was so funny about what she'd just said. "What?"

"Well, if that's the only reason you're turning me down, I must be making progress," Castle clarified his amusement. He decided to give it another go. "Come on, it's Friday. The Martini's are calling out to us. Can't you hear them screaming our names? Kate-y…" He'd added the last part in a soft, singsong voice.

"Isn't it a bit early to start drinking? It's only two o'clock."

"A drink tastes the same any hour of the day, if you ask me."

"Well, I enjoy a good glass of wine much more after a hard day's work."

"Ah, well there you have it… you might _enjoy_ it more, but the _taste_ is the same."

Beckett studied him for a moment, wondering how to respond to that, and remembered that a best-selling author was sitting across from her, which implied that he was good with words. She had always been able to tell from his books that he had a love of words and, at moments like these, it showed through in the cleverness of his comebacks. "Okay, you win."

"Always happy to hear that," Castle grinned. "So, we can go and have that drink now?"

"You can. I can't."

"Aww, come on," he pouted.

"I'm sorry," Beckett replied. "Really Castle, why don't you just go home? This is the least exciting part of my job and I can imagine that you're bored out of your mind by now. I think you've shadowed me long enough. Go have that drink, or write another chapter about Nikki Heat. Better yet, have that drink with her."

Castle seemed to ponder that option for a moment. "Actually, Alexis comes home from school soon, so I think I might just take you up on that offer. You really don't mind?"

"I'm sure I'll be able to get it done without you here."

"I know that, Detective. I just don't want you thinking I'm ungrateful for the opportunity, or that I'm only tagging along for the good parts. I like to have the complete picture."

Beckett smiled, understanding he was serious about what he'd just said. "I know, Castle. Say hi to Alexis and Martha for me, will you?"

Castle returned the smile. "I certainly will."

**)()()()(**

Arriving home twenty minutes later, Castle found his sixteen-year-old daughter, Alexis, in the kitchen doing her homework. An adoring smile tugged at his lips as he walked up to her and wrapped his arms around her from behind, before pecking her cheek lovingly. "Hello pumpkin."

Alexis smiled, moved by her father's affection. He was a wonderful, yet at times crazy, single parent. "Hi dad."

"How was school today?"

"Okay, I guess," she replied. "I did get an A for chemistry."

Castle smiled. "That's my girl! I'm very proud of you."

"Because you flunked it yourself?" his daughter teased him.

"Only in school, not in real life," Castle grinned. "I've had great chemistry with a lot of people."

Alexis groaned. "Dad…"

"And actually, I didn't flunk it in school either, now that I think about it. Must be genetic."

"I'm sure."

At that moment, Castle's mother walked into the kitchen area with a twirl in true Martha fashion. "You're home early, kiddo. No one died?"

"Not in the end," Castle said mysteriously, earning curious looks from his family. "Which is why Kate's doing paperwork and that gets kinda boring after a while."

"That's funny coming from you," Martha replied. "Your work being published on paper and all."

"Very witty, mother."

"Must be genetic, too," Alexis laughed.

* * *

**_Feedback is greatly appreciated!_**


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer: **Castle and all the characters therein are owned by ABC. Thus, anything you recognize doesn't belong to me.

**Author's note:** as English is not my first language, I appreciate correction and comments!

* * *

**Chapter Two**

* * *

It was only seven-thirty on a Saturday morning, when Beckett hastily turned off the shower faucet. She pushed the curtain aside and stuck her head into the steam-filled bathroom. She'd heard correctly; her phone was indeed ringing. She stepped out of the shower and wrapped a towel around her body. As a few rivulets of cooled-off water slowly made their way down her shoulders, she did a slip-'n-slide across the tile, bolted to her bedroom and grabbed her phone off the nightstand. She was able to push the green answer button just in time.

"Beckett."

The early caller turned out to be Captain Montgomery, informing her of a new case.

"You want the honor?" he asked her after he'd given her all the information she needed.

Beckett frowned. "Excuse me, sir?"

"Of calling Castle. You wanna call him yourself?"

"Not particularly, no, but I'll do it. Sure," she replied, not letting on to her boss that she was secretly glad she'd be Castle's wake-up call.

They quickly said their goodbyes, then hung up, in order for Beckett to make the call to Castle. The week before he had stolen her cell phone on the ride over to a crime scene and had entered his number into her speed dial list. Even though she knew his number by heart, she could now see the plus side of that. She punched in the right buttons and listened as Castle's phone rang twice before she heard his groggy voice come over the line.

"Rick."

"Morning, Castle," Beckett greeted him as she opened her closet door in order to find something suitable to wear. "Not a morning person, are you?"

"That you, Detective?"

"Yes, Kitten," she answered, using the one name she knew she could tease him with and was actually no longer allowed to call him by. "We've got a case, if you're awake and interested," she added as she settled on black pants and a dark purple fitted top.

"Always. You'll pick me up?" he asked her, now fully awake.

"Be ready in ten minutes."

"Wow, okay. I better hurry, then."

"You do that," Beckett told him before disconnecting the line. She had to hurry herself, if she wanted to make it to his loft in time. However, she figured it was better if he had to wait for her than vice versa. At least, this way, he'd be ready to join her when she would arrive at his door.

She finished dressing, quickly tried to dry her hair with the towel, ran a comb through it and put on some make-up. Then she walked up to her dresser and opened the jewelry box that stood on top of it. She took out her father's watch first and put it on, then she grabbed the necklace with her mother's ring and hung it around her neck, tucking it underneath her shirt. She finished by opening one of the drawers, taking her gun out of it and putting it in the holster on her hip. All in record time.

Having grabbed her keys, she made her way out of her building. Once outside, she jumped into the Crown Vic and sped over to Castle's apartment. She glanced at her watch and, as expected, saw that she was going to be a few minutes late. She weighed the option of calling Castle and informing him of her delay, but then decided against it. Five minutes later, she parked in front of his building and honked the car horn. To Beckett's surprise, it took Castle mere seconds before he appeared and jogged over to the cruiser. He opened the car door on the passenger's side and plopped down on the leather-upholstered seat.

"Good morning, Detective. Since I had a couple _extra_ minutes…" Castle started teasingly, but was interrupted by Beckett.

"Sorry about that," she apologized as she studied him. He looked very much awake and, while she hated to admit it to herself, extremely good in his dark blue button-down shirt.

"I managed to make us some coffee," he continued and held out the thermos flask. "Want a sip?"

"Hmm, that's thoughtful of you."

"I do have a thoughtful side to me, Detective. I guess you learn something new about me every day."

"I knew that already," she told him sincerely, making him smile. "One sip and then we really need to get going."

She took the thermos from him, screwed off the lid and brought it to her lips. Having skipped breakfast, the coffee smelled especially delicious that morning. She took a sip, swallowed and quickly took a second sip, savoring the taste before putting the lid back on. She handed the coffee back to Castle. "Thanks."

"You're welcome," he replied while he carefully opened the thermos for himself, as Beckett drove off in high speed. "So, where are we headed?"

"The Brew House."

"Well, I don't suspect we're going for a beer, so what is it?"

"An old brewery that is being renovated at the moment. It's still in the early stages. The abandoned building used to be a popular hangout spot. There's a six foot fence surrounding the construction site now, but it's easy to climb, so that doesn't stop the kids from coming there at night," Beckett told Castle as he drank his coffee and listened intently. "Anyway, it's located in a tough neighborhood. We've had six fatal shootings in the last twelve months."

"So, not exactly the nicest part of the city," he commented.

"No, but they're doing their best to change that. I'm sure it's going to be quite nice when it's all finished."

"Well, as long as nobody finds out that someone was murdered there even before the project's finished. I can imagine that being bad for business."

"We can't exactly keep that from the public," she replied. "Besides, we don't even know if it's a murder yet."

Castle nodded. "Could be another false report, of course."

"Not likely, but not impossible either. Let's hope so, though."

"Well, we'll find out soon," Castle remarked, sounding rather excited as Beckett pulled up to the construction site.

Beckett parked the cruiser and they stepped out. Castle took in the scenery in front of him. He noticed that Beckett had been correct. Little of the outer shell of the brewery remained. Most of the interior had been knocked through, creating massive open spaces. Studying the building plan printed on the construction site sign, he could tell that those spaces were being partitioned off to create individual factory and office business units to be hired out. The development indeed was still in its early stages and the site was scattered with machinery and large building goods. Wire fencing and padlocks apparently had to prevent the theft of these items. Castle wasn't sure it could. After all, despite the fence and locks, a murder had just occurred inside the building.

Detectives Esposito and Ryan walked up to the pair, holding the gate open for them, so they could enter the perimeter.

"Another false report or a real murder?" Castle immediately asked them.

"Couldn't be more real, bro," Esposito answered him.

"Good," Castle replied, then hastened to correct himself. "Not _good_, of course. I mean, it's a good thing we're here for a reason. Well, not that…"

"We get it, writer boy," Beckett told him, saving him from getting himself into a deeper mess. "Let's just go inside."

The group headed inside and over to Unit 9, one of the corner units of the converted brewery, at the back of the site. As they walked, Ryan informed them that this particular unit was the latest one being renovated and therefore the easiest to access, from the inside as well as from the outside. Arriving at the crime scene, they found the victim lying in a puddle of blood, wearing old baggy jeans, a hooded sweater, a baseball cap as well as a bandana around his neck. Lanie Parish was already doing a preliminary examination of the body.

Beckett walked up to the M.E. and crouched down next to her. "Hi Lanie, you got an I.D. for us yet?" she asked, putting on some gloves.

"Yeah, the vic had a wallet on him. Ronald Anderson, twenty-one years old, shot in the chest with a single bullet from a .45 caliber weapon," Parish answered, showing her the identity card inside the wallet. "We're in luck, actually. There's a depression in the concrete floor and some footprints. It seems to have been laid just yesterday afternoon. The cement was still drying when our vic was killed on it."

"So, he's been here for what, ten hours?" Beckett said, looking at the now rock hard concrete and doing a quick calculation in her head.

"Minimum."

"Anything else?"

"I'll know more after I've done the autopsy."

Beckett nodded, stood up and joined Castle, who was checking out the unit's interior, as were Ryan and Esposito. Not that there was much to check out yet. The space was constructed in the form of a trapezoid. The unfinished walls showed old water damage and repairs had been made, leaving behind large plaster stains. The ceiling had a vent and there were two newly placed skylights, which were all sealed close. The top windows, on the contrary, stood open, making them the likely entrance point for the victim into Unit 9. Noticing so, Beckett strutted over to the window for a closer inspection. Esposito informed her that latent fingerprints had already been taken and were going to be compared with those of the renovation workmen.

"This could be interesting," Castle remarked from the other side of the unit, catching everyone's attention. "The killer might have left his signature behind. Although I have to say, not a very creative one."

The three detectives headed over to where he was standing and, when they were by his side, Castle pointed out a small work of graffiti to them. The tag, which was sprayed onto the wall in red paint, portrayed a Latin cross with a large letter C in the middle of it and, more importantly, still looked relatively fresh.

"It roughly matches the sign of the Crosses," Ryan commented as he took a couple of photographs from different angles. "Might be a setup, though."

"Right, in that case it could just as well have been the Bullets," Esposito agreed.

"The Crosses, the Bullets?" Castle repeated. "They sound like cheesy gang names."

"That's because they are. Street gangs, I mean. They're not quite so cheesy. The Crosses are rather notorious in this area and they've been involved in an on-off turf war with their even more deadly neighbors, the Bullets. Let's just say they're not too shy about handing out the death penalty," Esposito explained to him.

"Or maybe they left the tag just to taunt us," Ryan remarked.

"Let's not get ahead of ourselves, guys," Beckett warned them. "Have you tracked down any of the workmen yet?"

Esposito consulted the scribbles in his little notebook. "One James Borkowski was the last to leave the site Friday. Officers are on their way to bring him in for questioning as we speak. They'll be taking him to the station, so you can take his statement as soon as you get there."

"Alright, if there's nothing else, Castle and I will head to the station then. You two make sure all the evidence will be sent for analysis?"

"Sure thing, Boss."

"Great," Beckett smiled, then turned to Parish. "Lanie, I'll call you later about an update?"

Parish nodded. "Or stop by, if you have the time."

"I'll try," she replied and started to leave the unit. She walked up to Castle and patted him on the chest. "Come on, Castle, we've got a statement to take."

**)()()()(**

"Remember, it's accompany and observe, not participate and annoy," Beckett warned Castle as they were about to head into the interrogation room back at the Precinct. She had told him so before, but he often seemed forgetful in that regard.

"Not even a _little_ participation?" Castle pouted. "I'm known to ask excellent questions."

"Fine… when the moment allows for it," Beckett replied, scolding herself for giving in to him once again.

Castle grinned in victory. "You know I can get him to confess."

"I have to admit you've had some luck before," Beckett mumbled reluctantly.

"Excuse me, what was that?"

"Let's just go inside and take his statement, okay?"

Castle nodded and followed her into the interrogation room. Inside, they found James Borkowski sitting behind the steel table. The concrete worker was sixty-six years old, graying and had a wrinkled, but tan forehead. Whether it was out of boredom or nervousness, the man was drumming his fingers on the tabletop, but stopped as soon as the pair walked in.

"Will this take long? I don't have much time," Borkowski said gruffly, depriving them of the opportunity to greet him politely.

Due to his demeanor, their initial positive approach turned negative in an instance. The man became a suspect in a matter of seconds. Beckett narrowed her eyes at the man, measuring him up.

"That depends entirely on you, Mr. Borkowski," the detective answered his question as she and Castle sat down across from him. "If your answers to our questions are forthcoming and honest, we can be done pretty quickly."

"Right."

"So, let's get to it then. Have you been to Unit 9 this morning?"

The man frowned slightly. "The Brew House? No."

"No work is done on the weekends then?"

"Not when concrete and plaster were done the day before."

"I see. Did you lock the unit before you left?"

"Always. Yesterday especially. The concrete was still drying and I left it to cure," he answered. "I don't understand. I'm here because I poured a concrete floor? Since when is that against the law?"

"It's not, but murdering someone on that concrete is."

Borkowski's eyes widened. "M-murder? I don't know anything about a murder. It wasn't me. _I'm_ a suspect?"

"Well, having poured the concrete, you were the last one there, so I think you can understand why we want to ask you some questions. The quicker we have a clear picture, the sooner you can go home. Alright? Now, you just told us that you locked up yesterday, but the windows were found open this morning. Can you explain that?"

"Well, that's how we do it. The weather was overcast, so we locked and taped all the doors. Only the top windows were left open to speed the drying, to air out the concrete."

"What was the condition of the unit right before you left?"

"Condition?"

"You know, the state you left it in, its contents…" Beckett tried to clarify.

"Right. Hmm, let's see… As I remember, I finished around five o'clock, last one to leave. As I'd just finished pouring the concrete, the unit was empty, no tools on the floor obviously and, like you already know, I left the windows open so the concrete would dry," he told them. "The unit is still in the middle of a restoration, so it's nothing special yet."

"Did you notice any graffiti on the walls?" Castle asked him.

"The walls are unfinished. There could be graffiti on it, I suppose, but nothing I remember. Nothing that stood out, at least. But I didn't really study the walls since I had more important things to do. Can I go now?"

"Why are you so anxious, Mr. Borkowski?" Beckett asked him, taking over the questioning from Castle.

"I'm not. I just don't like trouble. Now this. Two days work ruined."

"We understand that your work was ruined, but a murder took place there and we hope _you_ can understand that we need to ask you these questions," Beckett explained and then pushed a photograph of the crime scene in his direction, tapping her right index finger on the Polaroid. "You know the victim?"

Borkowski looked at the picture for a moment, but showed little emotion. "Not at all. But young people like empty buildings, you know. Maybe they use the place as a local hangout."

"Thank you, no further questions."

"But don't leave town," Castle warned him.

Beckett glanced at the novelist for a second, comprehending that his uttered caution had apparently become his all time favorite sentence to warn New York's suspects, whether there was probable cause for it or not. She had great difficulty suppressing a smile and remain professional as she pushed back her chair and stood up. Castle followed her example and, together, they left the interrogation room.

"Can we say… callous much?" Castle remarked as soon as they were out of earshot.

Beckett nodded. "I agree that he seemed a bit callous about the victim and he was visibly anxious, so clearly he's holding something back. We'll have to keep eyeballs on him."

"So, what's the next step? Inform the victim's family?"

"Yep. You wanna sit this one out?"

"Of course not, I'm going with you," Castle said and then winked. "Can't get rid of me that easily, Detective. You should know that by now."

Beckett shrugged. "Thought I might give it a shot."

"Better luck next time," Castle laughed.

The detective and her tag-along crossed the bullpen and made their way over to the elevator, taking it down. Once on the ground floor, they headed outside and over to Beckett's cruiser. They got in and sped off into the direction of the house of the victim's parents. For once, Castle was silent during the ride over and Beckett was thankful for that. His silence gave her the time and opportunity to mentally prepare herself for having to bring the bad news to Ronald Anderson's family. No matter how many times she had done it before, being the bearer of the message that a loved one had been murdered was never easy, especially if it concerned someone's child. This was, without question, the most difficult part of her job.

When they arrived at the house, which was located in one of the rougher neighborhoods of the city and could use a little maintenance and a good paint job, Beckett cut the engine and eyed Castle.

"Ready?" he asked her, knowing how much she hated to do this. For all the times he teased her, he had great respect for her, because just being in the same room when she delivered the horrible message was difficult enough for him. He couldn't imagine being the bad news bearer himself. Better yet, he couldn't – no, didn't _want_ to – be on the receiving end of it. Should something ever happen to his daughter, he didn't know if he could deal with that.

Beckett nodded. "Yes."

They climbed out of the car and, as they walked up to the front door, Castle placed his hand on the small of her back. A gesture Beckett would normally object to, but the situation was different now and his support somehow made it easier. She looked over at him and their eyes met in silent understanding.

Beckett knocked on the front door. A moment later it was opened by the man they assumed to be the victim's father. "Mr. Anderson?"

"Yes, Lawrence Anderson," he said as a look of concern came over his face. He gulped and shook his head, seemingly realizing why they were standing on his doorstep. "This is about Ronnie, isn't it?"

Beckett nodded. "I'm Detective Kate Beckett, NYPD, and this is Richard Castle," she told him as she showed him her badge. "May we come inside?"

Mr. Anderson moved aside to allow them entry and gestured to the living room. "Mary-Ann, my wife, is in the living room."

Beckett and Castle walked into the room, followed by the man of the house, and found Mrs. Anderson on the couch, talking on the phone. When she noticed Beckett and Castle and saw the horrified look on her husband's face, she understood something terrible had happened to their son. She quickly ended the conversation and disconnected the line.

"Oh my god, what happened?"

Beckett sat down next to her on the shabby couch. Castle and Mr. Anderson took place on the other couch. "We're here about your son. I'm afraid that we found Ronald this morning at the Brew House. He was shot in the chest and didn't survive. We're very sorry for your loss," she told the Andersons as gently as she could, knowing from experience what a useless phrase it really was. Then again, anything one would say in such a situation would be useless as no words could bring back the victim.

Mrs. Anderson burst into tears and her husband walked over to her, sitting down on the armrest of the couch. He wrapped his arms around his wife in order to comfort her and to find comfort in her at the same time. His eyes were red and he visibly had trouble trying to dam his own tears.

"You're certain it's Ronnie?" Mrs. Anderson asked in between sobs.

"We found his wallet and ID card."

"So, he was shot? How? Who did this to him?" Mr. Anderson wanted to know.

"We haven't finished our investigation yet. At this point, there's not much we can tell you. I'm really sorry. But we'll do our utmost to catch the killer. Maybe you can tell us a little bit about your son? He still lived with you here?"

"He did," Mrs. Anderson began, wiping away her tears. "We have two other sons. They all still live at home. Ronnie was twenty-one, Mike just turned twenty, he's our youngest, and Larry, our eldest son, is twenty-three."

"Close in age. Did they all get along?" Castle questioned.

"Ronnie and Mike are… were very close. Mike's gone off to a basketball game. He left early in the morning, before we were even awake. He'll be devastated when he finds out what's happened to his brother."

"What about your other son?" Beckett asked her.

"They got along fine, but Larry has his own group of friends. We don't see him as often as we'd like. My God, what do we tell them, Lawrence?" Mrs. Anderson cried out, bursting into tears again.

"Shh," Mr. Anderson said, trying to comfort his wife.

"I knew something had happened when we found out he hadn't come home last night," Mrs. Anderson continued in between burst of tears. "We assumed he'd gone to his friends, but he always let us know where he was. He's a good kid. It just didn't sit right with me. I called his friends, but they hadn't seen him. I was still on the phone just then when you came."

"When was the last time you saw him?"

"Ronnie and Mike left the house after dinner on Friday. Lawrence and I went to bed quite early, just after ten I think, they hadn't come home yet. They have the key, so we don't wait up for them. They're not little kids anymore. I think it was around ten-thirty when I woke up from the sound of the front door opening. I assumed it was the boys and went back to sleep. When we wanted to wake up Ronnie this morning, we found out that his bed was still made. I guess he never came home."

"And Mike had gone off to his game already, so we couldn't ask him if he knew where his brother was hanging out either," Mr. Anderson added. "As soon as they get on the tour bus, their coach makes them turn off their cell phones."

Beckett nodded, making a mental note of the fact that Mike had seen his brother not long before the shooting, which must have taken place around ten o'clock that Friday night by her calculations. She'd have to ask Lanie for the official time of death. She also decided that Mike needed to be questioned. He was, after all, the last family member to have seen the victim alive. "Can we speak with him?"

"With Mike?" Mr. Anderson asked and looked at his watch. "He's still in the middle of his basketball game right now, I don't think there's any way that we can reach him in the next few hours. But when he gets home, of course, you can. As long as we can tell him and Larry what happened to their brother ourselves. I think they should hear it from us."

"Of course, no problem, take all the time you need," Beckett replied. "I have one last question, though. Did you notice anything unusual lately? Any strange behavior?"

Mrs. Anderson shook her head. "Nothing out of the ordinary. Ronnie's a young adult, thinks he knows everything… I mean, he _thought_ he knew everything. Oh, I can't believe he's not here anymore."

"What my wife means to say is that we had our… disagreements, but nothing unusual."

"Do you know of any reason why he'd be at the Brew House?" Castle questioned.

"No idea," Mr. Anderson said, shaking his head. "I mean, I know it's a local hangout, but as far as I know, our boys don't go there."

Beckett took his answer in with a nod and decided they'd asked enough questions for now and that it was time for the Andersons to be left alone. "We'll contact you later today in order to speak with your sons and inform you about any news we might have."

"Yes, okay. Thank you. I'm going to make sure that Larry comes home as soon as possible, too, so we can break the news to him," Mr. Anderson replied.

"Again, we're very sorry for your loss," Beckett said before she and Castle stood up, ready to make their way out of the living room.

Mr. Anderson was about to get up from the couch and show them out, but Castle stopped him. "We'll find our way out, thank you."

Mr. Anderson nodded gratefully and, as he went to embrace his wife, Beckett and Castle left the house. The twosome got back into the Crown Vic. Their next stop was Lanie Parish at the morgue. Beckett hoped her friend had some useful autopsy results to share with them.

When the duo entered the pathology room, they found the M.E. having just finished the autopsy on the victim. The subsequent procedure would be the closing up of the body, but Parish didn't get any further than grabbing the thick twine from the tray next to the autopsy table. When she noticed Beckett and Castle had entered her work area, she put the twine back down.

"Hello there," Parish greeted the pair. She took off her protective glasses. "Came for an update?"

Beckett nodded. "Yeah, we just came back from the victim's parents. I'm in need of some useful information."

"Hmm… how did it go?"

"Like usual, you feel completely helpless."

"I'm glad I'm just the one doing the autopsy."

"I don't understand how you could ever enjoy doing this," Castle remarked, eying the body and its very prominent Y-incision. "Unless you love the macabre."

"And what did _you_ do for a living, again?" Parish shot back.

"I _write_ about the macabre, I don't put my hands in it," he replied, making a face of disgust and wiggling his fingers by way of illustration.

"Well, macabre or not, I've chosen this profession because I think it's important that the circumstances surrounding someone's death won't be overlooked or ignored, so I can get you guys all the information you need to catch the murderer and put him behind bars. It's the least we can do for the victim."

"Obviously, I can only…" Castle began, but was cut off by Beckett.

"Sorry to interrupt your little discussion there," she spoke up. "But I'd like to know a bit more about the vic."

"Right. I'm sorry, Kate," Parish said with a nod and looked at her computer screen for a moment. "Well, we already assumed that he died due to the bullet wound in his chest, right below is heart. The official cause of death is trauma and massive internal bleeding. I also found an abrasion on his right knee. From that abrasion and the condition of his clothing, I've deduced that the victim was shot, fell to one knee, then managed to stumble to the far side of the unit to fall a final time, where he died. There were also lacerations on the victim's forehead and chin. I believe he received these scrapes from his final fall into the concrete. Though I found concrete in his nostrils, this occurred just post mortem."

"So, he was shot, fell and then stumbled to the far side of the unit, where he fell again?"

"Basically," Parish answered. "Any info on the slug yet?"

"I expect to have the full ballistics report shortly."

"So, what do you do next?" Castle asked Parish, always willing to usurp new facts for his future novels.

"Well, now that I've finished the gross exam, I will…"

"Gross… you got that right," Castle interrupted her with a smirk.

"Hilarious, writer boy," Parish shot back, rolling her eyes at him. "Just so you know, the term gross is a direct German translation of big as opposed to microscopic. It's the part of the examination done by the naked eye and not the microscope."

"Oh right," Castle replied, feeling somewhat stupid now. "It's still pretty gross, though."

"Guys, we've had this discussion already. Let's move on, shall we?" Beckett interjected, looking at her watch. "Actually, let's literally move on. We've got to go, Castle. I wanna find out if Larry Anderson has returned home yet. We still need to speak with him."

"But Lanie didn't get to finish telling me what happens next," Castle replied, almost sounding like a child.

"If that's what you're interested in, why don't you shadow her for a bit?"

"Please don't," Parish hastened to speak. "I like the quietness around here."

"Enjoy it while you still can. I'll be back," Castle warned the M.E. with a wink, then followed Beckett out of the autopsy room.

* * *

**_Feedback is greatly appreciated!_**


	3. Chapter 3

****

Chapter Three

**

* * *

**

Larry Anderson had returned home, where he'd learned of the murder of his younger brother. When the news had sunk in, his father had called the police station to inform them that his son was ready to speak with Beckett and Castle.

Twenty minutes later the crime-solving duo met up with Larry in the Anderson's small kitchen, while his parents sat in the living room. The victim's older brother was clearly a tough guy, with an impressive résumé of street and bar fights and a DUI to top it off. He looked the part as well, wearing a heavy gold chain around his neck and a wife beater that showed off the tattoos on his muscled arms. Fortunately, Beckett wasn't easily impressed. Moreover, she and Castle weren't there to interrogate him – he wasn't a suspect, at least not yet – but to solve his brother's murder.

"First of all, we're very sorry for your loss," Beckett began after they'd all taken a seat around the kitchen table. "Since we'd like to get the complete picture of what happened to your brother last night, we need to ask you some questions."

"Sure," Larry said, although he didn't seem very willing to answer any.

"When was the last time you saw your brother?"

"Thursday night."

"You didn't see him at all on Friday?"

"No."

"Why not?"

"I was with friends the whole day."

"What about Friday night?"

"Out, like everyone else."

"And where would that be?" Beckett pressed as her instinct told her that his hostility to her questions could mean that he was trying to cover something up.

"I went out for drinks with my friends around seven o'clock, then picked up my girlfriend. We hung out for a while," Larry answered, clearly beginning to get angry. "Why the hell do you wanna know, anyway? You should be out looking for the killers, instead of asking me useless questions. I already told my father that this would be a complete waste of time."

"Your answers could really help the investigation," Beckett tried to explain to him.

"So, you didn't go home last night?" Castle asked, taking over in hopes of redirecting some of Larry's anger, even if that meant it would be aimed at him instead.

"I stayed at my girlfriend's place."

"What's her name?" Beckett wanted to know.

"She's got nothing to do with this."

"Please? We just need a complete picture."

Larry rolled his eyes. "Jennifer Roberts. She'll tell you the same thing."

"Thanks," Beckett replied as she wrote the name down.

"Do you know if your brother was involved in any gang-related activities?" Castle dared to ask Larry next.

"You think Ronnie was some sort of gangster?" Larry asked in disbelieve. "Are you fricking kidding me?"

"Have you heard of the Crosses?" Castle continued, relentlessly.

"No."

"What about the Bullets?" he tried, as Larry was clearly lying.

"No," Larry answered with even more irritation.

"Okay, that's all we need to know from you at this point," Beckett said with a nod, putting an end to the questions, since Larry wasn't willing to fully cooperate at this point. She closed her notebook and pushed the chair back. Its wooden legs _scraped loudly_over the tile floor. She stood up, then beckoned Castle to do the same and follow her back to the living room.

"You better find out who did this to Ronnie," Larry called after them as they left the kitchen.

The pair said goodbye to Mr. and Mrs. Anderson and left the house. Once they had returned to the car and were on their way back to the Precinct, they started to discuss the uneasy conversation they'd just had with Larry.

"We should check his alibi," Castle began. "He was a little too angry for my taste."

"Well, sometimes that's how relatives react to the murder of a family member. Everybody deals with it differently."

"You didn't think he acted suspicious at all?"

"Oh, he did," Beckett told him. "And we will most definitely check his alibi. He could be covering something up and he was clearly lying about not knowing either gang."

"That's what I was thinking."

Back at Precinct 12, they met up with Ryan, Esposito and the Captain for an update on the case. From the initial crime scene inspection and investigation, the homicide appeared to be gang related. The question that still went unanswered was what the killer's motive had been. Castle, as per usual, came up with a grotesque story of how the victim had been dealing in hard drugs and had made the deadly mistake of trying to sell on the turf of the Bullets. They had liquidated him because of that and had tried to cover it up by leaving behind the graffiti tag of the Crosses. Since Castle's story actually seemed kind of plausible, meetings were going to be arranged with both rival gangs the following day. The team hoped that would shed some light on the matter.

The group further discussed the possibility that the initial pathologist's report, which was expected to come in later that afternoon, might confirm the drug angle. Certainly until that time, they would have to keep all options open. The ballistics report on the bullet retrieved from the victim's body and the footprint analysis were expected to come in around the same time and could hopefully give them something more to go on. In the very least, they agreed that said footprints had seemed baffling. Just from observation at the scene, all the prints appeared exactly the same, which would imply that the killer hadn't been in the same room when the shot was fired. Castle immediately suggested that the victim might have run into Unit 9 to escape a pursuer only to be shot from the window.

With that in mind, the group moved to the break room to drink a well-deserved cup of coffee. Until the reports would come in, there was very little they could do except for positing possible scenarios. After unsubtly reminding them that they had him to thank for the coffee they were momentarily enjoying, Castle tried to convince the others of his version of the events surrounding the murder. Even Beckett had very little reservation in agreeing with him this time around. Since the last six fatal shootings in that area had all been, at least indirectly, related to the on and off turf war between the Crosses and Bullets, it wasn't far out to assume they were involved in this shooting as well.

The team's coffee break was cut short when a call came in from Michael Anderson. The victim's youngest brother was still at his basketball game when his father had managed to contact him and had told him the horrible news. After he'd taken a moment to regain his bearings, difficult though it was, he'd phoned in to give a statement to Esposito, who was the one to answer the call. After their conversation, Esposito relayed Michael's statement to the others. The boy had sounded deeply distraught. He and Ronald were the closest in age in the family and often hung out together. That fateful evening, the boys had parted ways a little before ten o'clock and Michael claimed not to have seen his brother after this. Ronald had wanted to stay out late, while Michael had returned home. He'd explained that he had wanted to go to bed early as he had to leave first thing in the morning to join his teammates traveling to a basketball game two hundred miles away. On his way out in the morning, he'd noticed that Ronald wasn't in his bed, but had thought nothing of it.

Soon after the call, the pathology and ballistics reports came in. The whole group huddled around one of the desks to read the reports. The pathologist's report laid out most of the findings during the initial autopsy, but included two new and puzzling facts. Gun shot residue had been found on the victim's abdomen and even some on his face. Conclusively, his attacker had been no more than two yards away when he'd fired the shot. The bullet trajectory had been an even horizontal. It could thus be said that the attacker had been standing next to the victim.

The ballistics report confirmed that the recovered slug was a .45 hollow point. No casings were recovered from the crime scene. It also made mention of the fact that the pathology report had indicated that the victim was close and on the same level as his attacker and added that the open windows were just over twenty feet away and over five feet from the ground. Based on those distances, it was impossible that the shot had come from the window.

Ballistics thus agreed with pathology; the killer had to have been very close to the victim.

There was also a report on the footprint analysis. Beforehand, Beckett had explained to Castle that, since shoeprints are similar to fingerprints, once they'd find a suspect, they could compare the shoe size and type and they could also compare any unique imperfections the shoe would have. The report stated that the victim had worn a size ten Atmos x Reebok Pump Omni Lite sneaker, which had rather distinctive soles. All of the prints in the concrete came from the same size ten sneakers. Also, heavy drop-down prints had been found at the window in Unit 9. The windows had thus been the point of entry. From there the prints went all over the room, sometimes crossing back. In the middle of the room, near the first blood spatter, the heel marks had become heavy as the victim had lurched backward from the shot and had fallen, leaving the large depression. He had kneeled, then gotten to his feet and had staggered to the far wall, where he finally had collapsed face down.

Now, the team just had to find the person responsible for all this.

****

* * *

_**Feedback is greatly appreciated!**_

**_AN: Since this chapter was rather dry, I decided to post the fourth chapter as well..._**


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter Four**

* * *

When Beckett arrived at Precinct 12 the following morning, Ryan and Esposito immediately handed her a stack of Sunday newspapers. Quickly scanning them, she found that, much to her chagrin, all the papers had reported Ronald Anderson's death as a gangland slaying.

"The Captain wants to see us in his office in five minutes," Esposito warned her.

"Is Castle coming in, too?" Ryan inquired.

"I think we can expect him," Beckett replied. She wasn't sure of her answer, but she received confirmation only seconds later, when Castle stepped out of the elevator and came their way, carrying a box of doughnuts with him.

"Good morning all, I come bearing police food," the author greeted everyone as he placed the carton box on Beckett's desk. Studying their faces, he noticed that they didn't seem too happy at the moment. "Not good? They've got jam and icing."

"Can you all come inside my office for a moment?" Captain Montgomery asked the team from the door opening of his office.

"Yes, sir, of course," Beckett answered for all of them.

"Oh, I get it," Castle commented before he followed the three detectives into the Captain's office. Being the last one to step inside the room, he closed the door behind him and then went to stand next to Ryan.

"As I'm sure you're all aware, the media have picked up the story and have run it as a gangland hit," the Captain began and things began to make sense to Castle. "I got a call from the mayor this morning, so the pressure is on. We have to catch the perp before a full-scale gangland war tears the neighborhood apart."

Beckett nodded. "Yes, sir."

"Officers are on their way to bring in the heads of the two rival gangs. I want you to interrogate them as soon as they get here. Let me know if they give you anything useful."

"Of course."

After a nod from the Captain, the foursome left his office again. As they stepped back into the bullpen, officers were just bringing in Dylan Brooks, thirty-five and leader of the violent street gang the Crosses. His moniker was Smiley and while he had anything but a smile on his own face, he was known to carve them onto the faces of anyone who stood in his way.

The officers placed Brooks into one of the interrogation rooms, closed the door and walked over to Beckett. "He's all yours."

"Thanks," Beckett said with a polite smile and a nod. As the officers walked away, she looked over at Castle, who actually looked a bit scared. Amused, she grinned. "You coming?"

"Isn't that Dylan 'Smiley' Brooks?" he asked her.

"Oh, you've heard of him?"

"Yeah… you don't want to get him mad."

"So, let's try to get him to talk without doing that," she said and opened the door, beckoning Castle to follow her inside as the other two detectives went into the adjacent room to watch from behind the mirror.

Beckett walked into the room with as much confidence as she could muster. It wasn't that she was scared to talk to Brooks, but feeling comfortable around such a tough guy was a whole different story. This time around, she was actually glad that Castle took the seat next to her.

"Talk. Time is money," Brooks said, leaning back in his chair. "What do you need to know?"

"Would the Crosses have any reason to liquidate Ronald Anderson?" Beckett asked him, cutting right to the chase.

"Ah, so the rumors are true. It was little Ronnie Anderson who was found at the Brew House. I didn't know the kid personally, but he seemed like trouble to me and the Crosses don't need that shit."

"Where were you on the night of his murder?"

"That depends."

"On what?"

"On what night you're actually talking about."

"Last Friday."

"Well, on Friday I was hanging out with my crew at the Crash, having shots in the company of a couple of hot chicks. There were about sixty other people doing pretty much the same thing, so they can corroborate that. Why don't you check it out, huh?"

"We will," Beckett told him. "As the gang leader you must know what goes around on and even off your turf. You're trying to tell me you didn't hear anything regarding the murder?"

"Heard about it, sure. Word gets out pretty quickly, you know. Like I told you, I heard the rumors. Didn't get a name, though."

"Who would have the guts to kill Anderson?"

"You know, lady, I don't wanna do your job for you, but I think you wanna talk to Carlos Ortez," Brooks told her, then smirked. "Look, I don't know who killed the Anderson kid. But I tell you what, hot stuff, because I like you so much, I will find out who did it and kill him. Just get rid of the pretty boy sitting next to you, he ain't right for you."

Castle opened his mouth, ready to spew a comeback at the thug, but then thought better of it. Beckett, on the other hand, had already narrowed her eyes at Brooks, who was laughing at them at this point. She pushed her chair back and stood up. She looked at Castle and silently told him to follow her out of the interrogation room.

"What a creep," Castle remarked as soon as he was sure he was out of earshot from Brooks. He didn't want to risk a permanent smile.

"Yeah," Beckett replied, biting her lip. "But if his alibi holds up, he was miles away when Anderson was shot."

"Ryan and I will try to find witnesses who saw him at Crash that evening," Esposito said as he and Ryan joined the other two.

"Has Ortez been brought in yet?" Beckett asked.

"Yeah, a minute ago. He's in box two," Ryan told her, handing her the man's file.

"What's his moniker?" Castle inquired curiously.

"Gordo," Esposito said and then went on to explain. "That's Spanish for fat."

"So, I should expect some fat gangster?"

"Just make sure you don't actually call him that to his face," Esposito told him pointedly.

"Alright… heavyset gangster."

"Better to keep your mouth shut as long as you're in the same room. Just to be safe," Beckett said, then looked at Ryan. "Box two, you said?"

"Yep. Good luck."

"Thanks."

Becket and Castle headed over to interrogation room number two and sat down across from a heavyset and heavily tattooed man. He looked at the duo just as unimpressed as his enemy Dylan Brooks had earlier.

"You have ten minutes. Go," Ortez said, looking at them with confidence.

"Ten minutes? This will take as long as it needs to," Beckett replied as she opened his thick file. "Carlos 'Gordo' Ortez, self-named warlord of the Bullets. According to this file, you've got quite a rap sheet. You don't tend to shy away from anything."

Ortez shrugged. "Well, sweetheart, it didn't stop you guys from bringing me in."

Beckett cringed at the pet name, but knowing he was just trying to get her off track, she continued the interrogation nonetheless. "You know why we did that?"

"Someone took a shot at some kid at the Brew House."

"Well, they didn't just take a shot at him, they killed him."

"My people got nothing to do with it."

"Right, but your on and off turf war with the Crosses is heating up again, isn't it?"

"We didn't start this. They shot our guy, Mark Whitmore, at the liquor store and you did nothing."

"Whitmore was a drug dealer. He was working for you?"

"Forget it," Ortez said, shaking his head. "You cops just don't get it."

"How many tit-for-tat murders followed Whitmore's?" Castle asked him.

"Tit-for-tat?" Ortez repeated, looking at Castle in amusement. "I'm not admitting anything here, Richie Rich."

"Okay," Beckett said, taking over again. "What can you tell us about Ronald Anderson?"

"I've seen him around. Middle of three brothers, right? He the one who got shot?"

"How do you know him?"

"I don't."

"So, he's not a member of the Bullets?"

"Brooks been telling you that? You're going to believe a moron like him?"

"Are you saying he was involved with the Crosses?"

"Nah, he was just known in the hood."

"He had status?"

"Not in my books."

"Alright, no more questions," Beckett said with a nod, closing the file. She stood up and left the interrogation room with Castle hot on her tail.

"We're done with him?" Castle asked her after closing the door behind him.

"Well, if the vic has no connection to the Bullets or the Crosses, then I really doubt the gang angle," Beckett commented as they met up with Ryan and Esposito at their desks.

"But they've both heard of him," Castle remarked. "Maybe through his older brother."

"Maybe. We could check out that connection," Beckett agreed, then looked at the other two detectives. "Did you run Brooks' alibi?"

Ryan nodded. "Yeah, it checks out. The nightclub owner confirms he was there with his homies on Friday."

"Around what time did he arrive at the club?"

"Nine-ish," Esposito answered her. "Didn't leave until closing time."

Beckett sighed. "So, he's not our guy."

"Yeah, another dead end," Esposito agreed.

"Well, I guess we can't do anything now but wait for the fingerprint analysis of the Unit 9 windows tomorrow morning. Hopefully those results will give us new leads," Beckett said. "Alright, guys, let's call it a day and meet up at eight in the morning."

"We go home now?" Castle questioned, sounding somewhat disappointed, while Ryan and Esposito were already on their way out, obviously wanting to enjoy what was left of their weekend. He looked over at Beckett. "Wanna grab a bite to eat with me?"

"I don't think we've got anything to celebrate yet."

"Does that mean you'll have dinner with me as soon as we've solved this case and do have something to celebrate?"

Beckett studied him for a minute, deciding how to answer him. "Maybe."

"I'll take that maybe as a yes," Castle replied confidently. "And we _will_ solve this, soon."

"I hope you're right," Beckett said, not sure herself if she meant that she hoped to solve the case, or if she hoped to solve the case _and_ be taken out to dinner by Castle.

**)()()()(  
**

When Castle arrived home, he found the house empty. He knew his daughter was out with her boyfriend and, unsurprisingly, his mother had plans as well. He poured himself a glass of Châteauneuf-du-_Pape_and took the wine with him to his study. He sat down in the leather desk chair, extended his legs and propped them up on his desk. He grabbed his laptop and opened it on his lap. When all the programs had started up, he opened his latest piece of writing and stared at the screen for a moment. The day's events had given him enough inspiration to write, but his mind kept wandering back to the Anderson case. Naturally, the incentive that Beckett would let him take her out to dinner served as extra motivation to solve the case as quickly as possible.

"Thinking up creepy murder scenarios?" Alexis asked him with a grin as she walked into the study.

Not having heard anyone enter the loft and thus surprised by her presence, Castle sat up quickly and placed the laptop back on his desk. "Hi sweetheart."

"Hi," Alexis said as she walked up to him to give him a kiss on the cheek. "So, what's going on in that brilliant head of yours?"

"No creepy murder scenarios, if that's what you're hinting at," Castle answered. "Actually, yes, I _was_ thinking about creepy murder scenarios, but of the real kind."

"Beckett's case? Can't solve it, huh?"

"Hey, have some trust in your old man, will you? It's solvable, we just haven't put all the pieces together yet."

"Alright, so why haven't you?"

"Well, all of the initial forensics seem contradictory. For instance, the victim left footprints all over the crime scene, yet his attacker did not. The GSR evidence…"

"The what now?"

"Gun shot residue."

"Alright. Go on."

"The GSR evidence and the horizontal line of fire imply that his attacker was standing close to him, but how could he have been inside the unit without leaving tracks himself?"

"That _is_ weird," Alexis agreed with her father. "But how do you know that the footprints belong to the victim? Can't they be from the killer? Maybe the killer carried the victim inside?"

"They compared the victim's shoes with the footprints and they were a match."

"Then the killer must have worn the exact same shoes," Alexis concluded matter-of-factly.

Castle looked at his daughter for a moment, then got up and kissed her forehead. "Of course! That's not such a strange thought. It's definitely a possibility if they wear the same size. You are so smart."

Smiling, Alexis shrugged. "Mmm, I take after my father."

"Oh, you've got that right," Castle said with a grin.

* * *

_**Feedback is greatly appreciated!**_

_NB: anyone find the nod to another great show?_


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter Five  
**

* * *

It was a quarter to eight when Beckett entered the Precinct's bullpen. Figuring she was the first of the team to arrive, she decided to grab a cup of coffee first. She headed into the direction of the break room, but stopped dead in her tracks when she noticed that her assumption was proven incorrect. Castle had evidently come in before her, had brought in the whiteboard and was currently writing on it with a black marker. She walked up to him, but he was so concentrated on his work that he didn't seem to notice her.

"What are you doing?"

Startled, Castle turned around to face her. "Oh… hi. I was just writing down the facts of the case on the murder board. It occurred to me that we hadn't done that yet."

"Since when is that _your_ job?"

"I'm the writer, right? I write," Castle replied, but her expression told him otherwise. "No? Yes, okay, you're the boss." He replaced the cap on the marker and handed it over to her.

"With the gun. Don't you forget it," she told him pointedly as she took the marker from him. She shifted her eyes to the whiteboard and began to read the things he'd jotted down. Impressed by his accuracy, she handed him back the marker. "Please continue."

He widened his eyes and mouth in his characteristic expression of delight. "Thanks."

"Can I get you some coffee in the meantime?"

"That would be wonderful, Detective."

Beckett headed over to the break room and grabbed two cups. She placed them under the dispensing nozzles of the coffee machine and watched as the mugs filled up with steaming liquid. She inhaled the aroma, then took both cups and brought them with her to Castle.

Meanwhile, Ryan and Esposito had joined Castle at the whiteboard.

"Wow, you actually got her to bring you coffee?" Esposito remarked in amazement as he watched as Beckett handed Castle the steaming cup of coffee. "That's a first."

"What can I say, boys? Write something clever on the board and she becomes putty in your hands."

Beckett jaw dropped in disbelief. "Excuse me? You're looking for a reason for me to start calling you Kitten again?"

"Kitten?" Ryan raised his eyebrows and looked over at Esposito, who was equally amused.

"I take it back," Castle hastened to say. "But I did realize something last night. With a little help from Alexis, I have to admit. She's very clever, but she didn't get that from a stranger, of course…"

"Get to it already," Beckett urged Castle, after which he promptly began to write down his realization on the board, including a little drawing. When he was done, she raised her eyebrows. "Two pairs of Reeboks?"

"Yeah," Castle said with a nod, turning to face the others again. "The killer shot Anderson at close range, so the single footprint doesn't make sense, except when they both wore exactly the same shoes."

"The exact same shoes in the exact same size. That would be quite a coincidence… Kitten," Ryan mentioned with a smirk, smacking hands with Esposito and earning a glare from Castle.

"Not if they knew each other or if they both belonged to some sort of group where those sneakers are frequently worn," Castle defended his suggestion.

"Size ten _is_ the average shoe size for men," Beckett added, pensively.

"Exactly, so it's not that far out. Maybe we should return to the gang angle after all," Castle said. "Those gangsters all wear the same kind of clothes and colors, right? Almost like some sort of uniform."

Esposito nodded in confirmation. "They often do."

"We should check it out," Beckett agreed.

"See? I've got good ideas."

"Yeah, good thinking, bro," Esposito said, after which Beckett looked on as the three men smacked hands with each other; the Kitten comment apparently already forgotten.

"Anything else?" Beckett asked them.

"Actually, the fingerprint analysis summary report just came in," Ryan answered, holding up the folder he'd been clutching in his hand all this time.

"What does it say?"

"Haven't had the chance to look at it, yet," he told Beckett, handing the folder over to her.

Beckett opened the folder and began to read the report. "Let's see… The open window in Unit 9 of the Brew House contained thirty-one distinct and useable prints and only eight unusable prints. Most of the prints have been matched with the renovation crew to eliminate them from the enquiry. A list of test results follows, blah, blah, blah… Ah, here we are. All of the useable prints have been compared to the database and there are no matches to any known offenders. Damn," Beckett cursed.

"So, that doesn't get us any closer to the killer," Ryan commented as Beckett closed the report in disappointment.

"Detective Beckett?" someone called out.

"Yes?" Beckett said, turning into the direction of where she'd heard the voice come from. She was surprised to see the man momentarily facing her. She had not expected to see him again, at least not at free will. "Mr. Borkowski, what brings you here?"

"I have some findings I thought I should share with you all," he answered, immediately catching everyone's attention.

"Did you go back to Unit 9 this morning?" Beckett asked him, knowing the crime scene had been released.

"Yes, it's a real mess, but that's not why I'm here."

"You found something?" Castle inquired.

"Yeah, outside," Borkowski answered with a nod. "Just outside the window of the unit where that boy was shot, someone scraped the concrete off their shoes on the breezeblocks. It has to be the killer, right?"

"Are you sure that concrete comes from Unit 9? It's a construction site after all," Beckett asked and, at the same time, she wondered why their forensics team hadn't noticed the concrete residue.

"Positive. I've done all the concrete on the site. It could have only come from that unit."

"Well, if it's the same concrete as the floor, it means the killer was present in the room with our victim," Beckett said, understanding that Borkowski's statement supported Castle's theory. "This is very useful information, Mr. Borkowski. I'm glad you decided to come to us with it."

"No problem. Glad to be of help," Borkowski responded. The man bit his lip before he spoke up again. "I realized I might have been a bit irritable the other day and I…"

Beckett studied the man and got the feeling there was something else he wanted to share with them. "Is there anything else you'd like to get off your chest?"

"Well," Borkowski started, clearly hesitating whether or not to say what was on his mind. "I should probably say something before you find out yourselves and I get in even more trouble. The thing is, I've been working illegally at the construction site for several months. It's a pension problem, but you have to believe that I had nothing to do with that young man's death."

"Illegally? Okay… Well, like I said before, we're glad you came forward with the information. I understand your hesitation. The info might actually turn out to be pivotal in our investigation," Beckett told him as she contemplated his confession. "You did the right thing coming forward with it, despite your problems, and since we only investigate murder cases, you don't have to worry. We won't pursue the work issue. Just make sure you get it solved."

"I will. Thank you," Borkowski replied in visible relief. He shook everyone's hand, said goodbye and left the bullpen.

At that moment, Beckett's phone began to ring. She dug it out of her pocket and answered on the third ring. It turned out the call came from someone from the print team, who had additional information on the footprints to share with her. First of all, Beckett was told that the Reebok sneaker was the latest release in the Atmos x Reebok Pump Omni Lite range, more specifically the Polka Dot version. These sneakers had only been available locally for the last three months. Secondly, a closer look at the evidence had confirmed Castle's suggestion that the marks were made by two different pairs of identical size ten sneakers and not a single pair. After saying thanks for the information, Beckett hung up and looked at Castle with _appropriate_feelings of_pride._

"What?" Castle asked her, a slight frown on his face.

"You were right," Beckett told him. "Two different pairs of identical size ten Reeboks. Good thinking."

Castle grinned. "Ah, that's why I didn't recognize your expression… You're impressed."

"Yes, tell Alexis she's a clever girl," Beckett teased, not wanting to boost his ego too much for it was big enough as it was.

Esposito laughed. "Oh, she got you there, bro."

**)()()()(**

After a quick discussion with the Captain, Beckett sent the forensic team to the Brew House in order to research the scrapes of cement on the breezeblocks Borkowski had told them about and hopefully to find more evidence as the gun and the second pair of sneakers had yet to be found.

Sometime in the afternoon, Beckett received a phone call from the team leader, informing her that there was a break in the case. The widened search had turned up a weapon and a pair of Reebok sneakers in a drain in a side street. The discarded gun was a .45 caliber handgun and thus the same caliber weapon that was used to kill the victim. Beckett ordered for the gun and the shoes to be send to the lab for analysis.

The break in the case led the three detectives and the novelist back to the whiteboard. Beckett handed Castle the marker and with that the honor of writing down the new facts on the board, something he accepted gladly. When the board was up-to-date again, they all stared at the facts of the case. They seemed to have all the facts at hand except for what could be considered the most important one — the identity of the killer.

"Do we still go for the gang angle?" Ryan asked the others.

"I'm not sure," Beckett answered, momentarily shifting her eyes from the murder board to her colleague. "They continue to stick to their story of not knowing the vic, or at least that he wasn't a member of either gang."

"And we've got no proof that he was selling drugs on their turf, so I don't see any reason for them to liquidate him. He didn't pose a threat to either gang."

"What about their shoes, though?" Castle remarked.

"I agree that the clue is in the shoes. Definitely," Beckett replied. "I don't think it's a coincidence that our vic and the killer wore the exact same type of Reeboks. It has to be someone close to him."

"Well, if it's not some thug, then we should look at his friends and family," Ryan concluded.

"Family is the closest relationship a person has," Castle stated, deep in thought. He rubbed his chin as he looked at the pictures on the board in front of him, then posited an idea. "It has to be Mike."

Beckett turned to look at him and raised her eyebrows. "Michael Anderson, the victim's younger brother? How did you get _there_?"

"Well, he's approximately the same height," Castle began to explain, pointing at a picture of the three brothers that Mrs. Anderson had given them and now hung in the corner of the whiteboard. "He could very well have the same shoe size. Perhaps mommy bought them the same shoes. Perhaps it was a two for the price of one deal."

"And they did leave the house together that night," Beckett commented, going along with Castle's idea. "They might have climbed into the unit together. Michael could have killed his brother and then climbed back out again, only to go home by himself."

"That would explain the cement outside the window," Esposito remarked.

"The only thing is that there is no apparent motive," Beckett said, biting her lip as she tried to come up with possible motives, but came up empty handed. "Why would he kill his own brother?"

"Why don't we bring him in for questioning and ask him?" Castle proposed.

Forty-five minutes later, Beckett and Castle sat down across from Michael Anderson in the interrogation room.

"Thank you for coming in. We have some questions regarding your brother," Beckett started as she methodically placed a file on the desk and opened it up, looking it over for a second. Michael's file consisted of all in all three documents; a verbatim police report of his earlier statement over the phone, a clean criminal record and a photograph of the Reebok sneakers. It wasn't much to go on. The boy did seem slightly nervous. He'd evidently been biting his nails as there was very little nail left. Beckett, however, couldn't read him that easily yet, which bugged her immensely. "We understand you two were quite close?"

"Yes, we… we were. We hung out a lot, made movies together," Michael replied.

"What kind of movies?"

"Mostly rap videos and sketches. We did a lot of improv comedy."

"Your parents told us that you'd left the house Friday evening together with your brother. Where did you guys go? A movie location, maybe?"

"I can't say anything about that. My lawyer said not to answer any questions."

Beckett looked at him in utter surprise as she had not expected this stance from him nor had she expected him having talked to a lawyer yet to discuss a strategy. She wondered if he truly had something to hide. "Why do you need a lawyer?"

"So, you won't wrongfully accuse me of anything."

"You think that's what we're out to do?"

Michael shrugged.

"Can you tell us what shoe size you wear?" Castle asked him, hoping against better judgment to get an answer out of him.

"Again, I have been advised not to answer any of your questions."

"Do these sneakers look familiar to you?" Beckett asked him as she showed him the photograph of the colorful Reeboks.

"Well, since some rappers started wearing them, everyone does. They're the latest hype," Michael answered. "Look, unless I'm a formal suspect I can't answer any more questions. And if I am, I want my lawyer here. I'm sorry."

Beckett put the picture back in the file, which she then closed. "We're sorry, too. We were hoping you'd want to help us find your brother's killer."

Michael nodded, but kept his silence. Beckett and Castle got up and left the interrogation room, meeting Esposito and Ryan in the adjacent room.

"Unless we find some direct evidence, we're not getting any further with him or the case," Beckett spoke.

"We'll have to get a search warrant for the Anderson's home," Esposito suggested. "Maybe we'll find some evidence there."

"Alrighty, let me make a call to judge Markway," Castle said, already grabbing his cell phone out of his pocket to call his acquaintance.

The others didn't protest this time around, knowing they'd get the search warrant quicker if Castle arranged it with the judge himself. Somehow, the writer knew everyone in New York City who was someone and got away with everything on top of that. Five minutes later, the search warrant was issued.

* * *

_**Feedback is greatly appreciated!**_


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter Six**

* * *

It was a good thing that the team had brought a search warrant with them, for when they arrived at the Anderson's house, nobody was home to open the door for them and let them in — if they would have done so in the first place. If the interrogation of the youngest family member was any indication, the Anderson family wasn't that facilitative in solving the murder.

Esposito kicked in the front door, which wasn't such a hard thing to do as it was old and didn't hang in its hinges correctly. One by one, the group entered the house, putting on gloves. They searched the living room and the kitchen first, then went upstairs to check out the bedrooms. They found nothing of interest in the master bedroom and the two bedrooms that, judging from the personal belongings, must belong to Michael and Ronald. They did, however, find a box of ammunition under the bed in Larry's bedroom. After recognizing them as .45 caliber shells and thus matching the murder weapon, Ryan put the box in a plastic evidence bag. Having secured the evidence, they went up to the attic.

The attic was small, but housed quite a number of large carton boxes. Some contained Christmas decorations, which were quickly deemed uninteresting in relation to the murder. They did secure a computer, one box of clothes and another containing several costumes and masks. The detectives weren't certain of their significance, but they figured it was always better to take more than was needed than to leave something behind that could turn out to be pivotal evidence.

When the search was completed, the quartet returned to the precinct for further analysis of the evidence.

In the meantime, the team had officers bring Larry in for another round of questioning, since the concealed ammunition found in his bedroom was of the same caliber as the murder weapon. Like his younger brother, he wasn't happy to be brought in and kept his silence when Beckett and Castle entered the interrogation room. Beckett placed the evidence bag containing the ammunition in front of Larry on the table. She raised her eyebrows at him, inviting an explanation for their discovery.

"I can explain the ammo," Larry told them after a long moment of silence.

"Then please do," Beckett urged him on.

"It's not mine. A friend asked me to hold on to it for him."

"Right." Beckett was unimpressed. Storing ammunition — or any kind of illegal goods or contraband for that matter — for a friend was an all too familiar excuse that was only true in a neglectable amount of cases. "And which friend would that be?"

"I can't tell you that."

"You can't or you won't?" Beckett asked. When Larry kept his silence, she continued. "I think the reason you can't tell us is because there is no such friend."

"There is. I don't own a gun, so what would I need the bullets for?"

"Well, we did find a .45 gun stacked away in a drain somewhere between the crime scene and your house. If we dust that gun for fingerprints will we find yours on it?"

"You guys think I killed my own brother?" Larry said in disbelieve, shaking his head. "Are you out of your fricking mind?"

"She's not at all," Castle answered his rhetorical question. "It's a very plausible assumption, in fact. So, why don't you earn yourself some points by telling us what ballistics is going to tell us anyway?" he asked Larry, leaning in closer for effect. From the corner of his eye he could see that Beckett was impressed by his performance, but of course he'd learned from the best.

Larry, on the other hand, looked unimpressed. "I don't have to talk to you."

"You talked to your brother's lawyer?" Beckett wondered out loud.

"What if I did?"

"Just so you know, we have some very clever people working here and they're going to figure it out, sooner rather than later," Castle told him.

"I hope they _do_ figure it out. Are we done now? Because this is a waste of time," Larry said. "Why don't you focus on finding the real killer instead of questioning me and tossing our fricking house? You had no reason to break in and look through our stuff."

"Actually, the search warrant says we did," Castle shot back.

"Plus we found the ammunition, didn't we?" Beckett added.

"I already told you it's not mine. How many times do I need to tell you that?"

"Once is enough," Castle told him. "Repeating it won't make it more believable."

"And if you don't want to give us the name of that friend, he won't be able to back up your story," Beckett added.

"There's no way I'm giving it up. I know my rights."

"Sure."

"So, can I go now?"

"Not yet."

"Why not? You can't keep me here."

"Actually, we can. We know our rights, too," Beckett told him. "Plus we have a gun that'll be dusted for fingerprints as we speak. Let's hope they're not yours."

"They're not."

"Then maybe they'll belong to your _friend_?"

"You won't get a name out of me."

"Yeah," Beckett said, closing the file. "A little cooperation would help solve your brother's death a lot quicker. I would think that would be more important to you."

Larry bit his lip, but remained silent.

Beckett nodded her head. "Alright then." She stood up, grabbed the file and took it with her as she walked up to the door. With her hand on the door handle, she looked at Larry one last time, hoping he would change his mind and cooperate, but alas, he didn't. She opened the door, allowed Castle to leave the interrogation room first and then stepped out into the hallway herself.

Castle looked at Beckett. "Well, that went great…"

"What the heck's up with this family?" Beckett sighed as the two of them walked up to her desk.

"They are either hiding something or they're totally moronic."

"Unfortunately, we can't arrest people for that."

"What about his girlfriend?" Castle questioned as they sat down at the desk.

"You wanna arrest her? On what grounds? Dating a moron?" Beckett asked, but then thought about his question more seriously. "You think he was concealing the ammo for her?"

"No, but she's his alibi, right? When we talked to him on Saturday, he said he was with her on the night of the murder."

Beckett looked at Castle, catching his drift. "Hmm… but was he?"

**)()()()(**

Nervously, Jennifer Robertson waited in the interrogation room, unaware that she was being watched from the adjacent room. The young brunette was your typical girl next-door. She looked innocent, but – as the adage goes – looks can be misleading.

"I just can't see her and Larry together," Ryan remarked. "I really can't."

"You're just jealous," Esposito told him.

"Remind me again which one of us has a girlfriend," Ryan teased his colleague.

Knowing he didn't have a comeback, Esposito bit his lip and nodded. He turned to the novelist. "Castle doesn't have a girlfriend. What do _you_ think?"

"Don't pull me into this," Castle said. "But if you really wanna know what I think… it's no secret that the nice girls often go for the bad boy type."

"You should know," Beckett muttered under her breath, but Castle, as well as the other two, had heard her clearly. She shrugged. "I just don't see the attraction."

"In that case… I invite you to find out for yourself by having dinner with me tonight," Castle replied with a charming grin.

"First of all, I was talking about Larry and, secondly, stop asking me out to dinner already."

Castle looked at the other two men. "I'll get her to go out with me one day soon, don't worry."

"Actually, that does worry me a little," Esposito replied, jokingly.

"Guys? Let's focus on Jennifer, okay?" Beckett said as she made her way through the door.

"Yeah, ask _her_ what she sees in Larry," Ryan called after her.

"Later," Castle said with a wave and followed Beckett out of the room. He caught up to her outside in the hallway. "You don't really think I'm a bad boy, do you? It's just an image that sells books."

"Right."

"Honestly, I'm just a DD."

Beckett arched an eyebrow. "A what now?"

"Doting dad, DD," he told her, but he could see that she wasn't convinced. Charmingly, he smiled at her. "What's your definition of a bad boy anyway?"

"My definition?" Beckett repeated, wondering if she should actually answer his question. As per usual she couldn't resist his charm and gave in, against better knowledge. "A player who does what he wants when he wants to and gets away with it because he has a certain charm about him. He's irresistible to women. A heartbreaker and…"

"You think I'm irresistible?" Castle cut in with a smirk.

Beckett hadn't expected that to be thrown back in her face like a boomerang. "Let's ask Jennifer some questions about Larry's alibi, okay?"

"Sure," Castle replied with a wink, his smile even bigger now that Beckett was blushing and had evaded answering his question, which, to him, was an answer in and of itself.

Beckett opened the door to the interrogation room and headed inside. Castle followed her and closed the door. While Beckett sat down across from Jennifer, Castle opted to stand next to the two-way mirror. As Beckett introduced them to the young woman, Castle took out his notepad and wrote down that Beckett found him irresistible. He held up the pad so that Esposito and Ryan were able to read it from the other side of the mirror. He grinned and bobbed his eyebrows suggestively, then put the notepad back into his pocket and shifted his attention to Beckett.

"We assume you've heard of the murder of your boyfriend's younger brother?"

Jennifer nodded. "Yeah, it's so awful. I can't imagine why anyone would want to kill Ronnie. He was such a funny and sweet guy. Who could do that to him?"

"That's what we're trying to find out. How long have you and Larry been dating?"

"Almost a year… on and off," Jennifer answered, but then frowned. "Larry's not in trouble or anything, right? I assumed this was going to be about Ronnie."

"It is. Were you with Larry on the night of the murder?"

"Yes, he picked me up from work and we spent the remainder of the evening together. He left my place on Saturday right after he'd gotten the call from his parents about what had happened to Ronnie."

"Does he have any connections to the Crosses or the Bullets?" Castle asked her from the other side of the room.

"Larry? Well, he knows this guy called Smiley. I think his real name is David… no, Dylan Brooks. They've been friends since junior high, but Larry's not a member of the Crosses or any other gang for that matter. His parents have steered him clear of that stuff. He's a good guy. Really. I wouldn't date him otherwise."

"I see. Has he told you anything about a gun or ammunition that he has been hiding?" Beckett asked her.

"What? No way. He'd never do that," Jennifer exclaimed, sounding shocked even by the mere suggestion, but then a sense of worry swept over her features. "Actually, he's been acting pretty nervous the last couple of months. I've asked him about it, but he told me not to worry."

"You have any idea what he could be so nervous about?"

"No, but now that I think about it, he's been avoiding Smiley as much as he can in about the same amount of time."

"You think Larry had reason to fear for his safety?"

"You mean if he'd bought a gun to protect himself? I've never seen or heard about it and I'm sure he would have told me if he had," Jennifer answered. "But I've never trusted Smiley. He's a creep. You know how he got that nickname?"

"We're aware of the story."

"You think Smiley has anything to do with Ronnie's death?"

"It's an angle we're looking into, but so far he seems to have an airtight alibi."

"Couldn't he have ordered someone to do it for him?"

Beckett didn't have the answer to that question. "That's something we'll have to investigate further, I'm afraid."

"Okay. Is there anything else you need to know?"

"No, I think we're done here for now. Thank you for coming in."

"No problem. I hope you find who did this to Ronnie."

Beckett smiled. "We're doing the best we can."

"Thank you," Jennifer replied as she stood up.

* * *

_**Feedback is greatly appreciated!**_


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter Seven**

* * *

A new day with, hopefully, new leads, Beckett thought as she booted up her computer the following morning. She drummed her fingers on the desktop as she waited for the computer to be ready for use. Suddenly, her eyes fell on a purple shawl lying on the edge of her desk. She immediately recognized it as Castle's. No one else at the precinct was known to wear them and it wasn't the first time he'd left personal items lingering on her desk. She looked around her for a moment and when she was certain no one was paying any attention to her, she grabbed the shawl and wrapped it around her neck. She picked up one of the ends, brought the silk material up to her nose and inhaled its scent. She smiled to herself. Not surprisingly, the shawl smelled like Castle.

"Looks good on you, Detective."

"Castle!" Beckett exclaimed, her eyes wide as she frantically tried to take the shawl from her neck. When she had managed to do so, she handed it back to Castle. She knew she was blushing and felt so embarrassed to have been caught in the act, that she couldn't look him in the eyes. Nonetheless, she knew Castle was grinning at her. "Sorry," she told him sheepishly.

"No problem. Like I said, it looked good on you."

"It's a little chilly in here," she replied, even though she knew he would see right through her. She just hoped he would humor her. Just this once.

"Right. Maybe I can get you a cup of coffee… to warm you up?" Castle asked her.

Beckett just nodded. As soon as Castle was out of sight, she hid her head in her hands and rubbed her forehead. Why did she have to sniff his shawl? She scolded herself for the foolish action.

"Hey yo, Beckett," Esposito called out, walking up to her with Ryan.

Beckett looked up at her colleagues, glad to be able to focus on something else. "Hey guys, find anything?"

"We've got the ballistics report on the gun and ammunition," Esposito told her as Castle walked up to the group with a cup of steaming coffee for Beckett.

"I hope this will warm you up just as much," Castle said with a wink as he handed Beckett the mug.

Esposito and Ryan watched the exchange with interest. "Are we missing something?"

"Nothing," Beckett was quick to reply. "What does ballistics say?"

Ryan opened the file and read to her from the report. "They confirm that the gun forensics found is the murder weapon. What might be even more interesting is that the same gun was used two months earlier in the drive-by murder of Mark Whitmore. You know, the drug dealer shot at the liquor store where he dealt tik and crack."

Castle looked puzzled. "Wait, what? Tik? I don't suppose you're referring to the Tic in Tic Tac…"

"Tik's another name for methamphetamine," Esposito enlightened him.

Ryan continued reading from the report. "Ballistics found no fingerprints from either Larry or Michael, but they did find two partial prints matching those of our friend Dylan 'Smiley' Brooks."

"We're back to Brooks then?" Castle asked.

"Well, it ties him either to our case or to that of Whitmore," Beckett replied.

"Maybe both."

"It just doesn't track for me," Beckett said as she walked up to the whiteboard, the other three following her. "We're missing something. But what? Based on the evidence, Michael's the most likely suspect. My instinct tells me it's him. He was the last person to see his brother alive, has no alibi…"

"What about the graffiti, though? The tag seems to point to Brooks," Ryan mentioned. "Or at least to the Crosses."

"Could be staging," Castle said. "The footprints suggest that our victim wasn't scared of his attacker. I mean, the prints don't indicate that there was a fight of any kind."

"Uh huh, that's true. He must have known his killer," Beckett agreed. "Also, the shot wasn't aimed to kill."

"A more experienced killer would have aimed for the head," Ryan remarked. "Execution style."

"Or a _calmer_ killer," Esposito added.

"Brooks would have been more experienced and calmer than Michael Anderson in that situation. Besides, why would our vic go to the Brew House with a guy like Brooks?" Beckett asked.

"We know that the two brothers shot rap videos together. What if they went there to make a video, pretending to be badass rappers, waved around their older brother's gun and it accidentally went off?" Castle posed as a possible scenario.

"Except, we didn't find their fingerprints on the gun," Beckett replied.

"They could've worn gloves," Ryan suggested.

Beckett nodded. "Let's pick up Michael."

**)()()()(**

Beckett and Castle walked into the interrogation room and sat down across from Michael Anderson. Beckett dropped the manila folder she had brought with her on the steel table and looked at the victim's brother for a moment, trying to decide if they really had the right guy in front of them. Part of her hoped they were wrong, for it would only lead to more misery for the Anderson family.

"Why am I here? You got more useless questions to ask me?"

"Just some questions to which we already have the answers. To confirm what we already know," Beckett informed Michael.

"And what would that be?"

"That you shot your brother at the Brew House."

Michael flinched for a second, but other than that he kept his facial expression emotionless as he peered back at his interrogators. "You don't have anything on me."

Beckett didn't want to tell him that they, indeed, didn't have any actual evidence that tied him to his brother's death. He was however the last person to have seen him alive. She tried to see through his cold façade. She knew the brothers had been very close, spending most of their free time together. She believed his brother's death affected him more than he wanted to let on. She rested her hope on that conviction.

Beckett opened the folder and took out a photograph, placing it in front of Michael. It was a picture of the two boys on vacation, their arms around each other's shoulders, their smiles wide. They'd found the framed photo in the Anderson's home during the search. When Michael looked at it, he showed his true emotions for the first time. A single tear rolled down his cheek, which he quickly wiped away.

Castle asked him the question that was also on Beckett's mind. "It was an accident, wasn't it?"

Michael nodded and then pushed the photograph away. Apparently, seeing the happy faces portrayed was too much for him to handle.

Beckett put the photo back into the manila folder. "Why don't you tell us what happened that night?"

Michael took a deep breath, deciding to come clean after all. "Ronnie and I used to make videos that we posted on YouTube. A friend of ours had just recorded this dope rap and Ronnie and I wanted to make a video for it. We figured that the old brewery would be the perfect spot to shoot it."

"Why bring a gun?" Beckett wanted to know.

"We thought it'd be cool. Ronnie had found it in Larry's room a week earlier."

"You knew Larry kept a gun there?"

"I think he got it from a friend."

"Brooks?"

Michael frowned. "Who?"

"You might know him as Smiley," Castle told him.

Michael nodded. "Yeah, Larry and he are friends."

"Smiley asked your brother to hide the gun for him after the drive-by?"

"I don't know anything about a drive-by," Michael started, but then seemed to remember something. "You mean, the shootout at Louis Liquor?"

"That's the one."

"I don't know anything about that."

"Really?" Beckett pressed.

"Well, all I heard through the grapevine is that a bullet hit a… Bullet," Michael said with a small smile dancing on his lips due to his play on words.

"Alright. So, you brought the gun to the Brew House. What happened there?"

"We were just playing around, shooting some footage."

"You pretended to be gangsters?"

Michael looked humiliated by the mere suggestion, as though to indicate it wasn't cool to be wannabe rappers. You either were or weren't one. "We didn't _pretend_ to be gangsters. We just goofed around. It was a rap song. We wore the clothes, brought the gun as a prop and…"

"And you tagged the wall with graffiti," Beckett finished.

Michael shrugged his shoulders. "Make it real, right?"

"Right, so real it _really_ killed your brother. How did you end up shooting him, Michael?"

"I don't know. We only had one bullet!" he exclaimed.

"Sometimes, that's all you need," Castle told him matter-of-factly.

"It was an accident. Honest. It happened so fast. I didn't know the gun would go off that easily. One minute we were just goofing in front of the camera, the next Ronnie was bleeding everywhere. He was dead in a matter of seconds. I panicked. Didn't know what to do."

"But you thought to clean the gun."

"I didn't clean it, just threw it away in some drain on my way home."

"Then you wore gloves," Beckett concluded.

"Duh." Clearly, Michael was unimpressed by her deduction.

"That means you came prepared."

"And juries usually don't like that," Castle added, pulling a sorry-to-break-it-to-you face.

"No, no, no, not prepared like _that_," Michael said as he understood what the detective had been hinting at. "We had to break into the construction site. We didn't want to leave behind any prints and get caught. That's the only reason I was wearing gloves. I didn't set out to kill my brother."

Beckett nodded, accepting his explanation. "So, why did you lie about your involvement before?"

"What do you think? My parents would kill me if they found out."

Castle frowned at the unfortunate word usage. "I'm sure they think one death son is enough."

Michael glared at Castle for a long moment, but ultimately shifted his eyes to look at Beckett, addressing her instead. "Can I talk to my lawyer now? I think I have some things to discuss with him."

"You do," Beckett replied as Michael hung his head in shame. "Just as we have some things to talk about with the rest of your family."

* * *

_**Feedback is greatly appreciated!**_


	8. Chapter 8

**Chapter Eight**

* * *

After Beckett and Castle had left Michael Anderson behind in the interrogation room, the duo met up with Ryan and Esposito in the break room for a celebratory cup of coffee. Even though it was their ritual after solving a case, the team felt there was very little to celebrate this time as the murderer had turned out to be the victim's brother and the crime seemed to have been an accidental killing rather than a murder. The result, however, was the same. Yet another family in ruins, their lives never the same.

The mood in the break room bordered on depression rather than jubilation.

"At least we got two for the price of one," Castle mentioned, breaking the silence, as he placed an empty cup under the nozzle of the coffee machine, after he'd given the first cup of coffee to Beckett. The quietness made him uncomfortable.

"You're not talking about coffee, right?" Ryan asked him.

Castle shook his head. "We closed one case and solved two."

"How do you figure that?" Beckett asked him.

"Assuming the Anderson brothers weren't involved in the drive-by shooting, Smiley must have killed Whitmore at the liquor store," Castle clarified as he took the cup of coffee from the machine. "Right?"

"In that case," Beckett started. "We've got ourselves a three for one kind of deal." When the three men looked at her with puzzled expressions, she explained. "How about adding one more count of unauthorized possession of a fire arm to the list?"

"You really wanna charge Larry Anderson with that?" Esposito asked in surprise.

"No, I think his parents have gone through enough for now," Beckett said seriously, but then smiled. "Just wanted to correct Castle's math."

Castle rolled his eyes. "Really now, Detective?"

"Alright, you two… Ryan and I will inform the Captain about the two or three for the price of one," Esposito remarked with a slight grin.

Beckett smiled. "Thanks, guys." She took a sip of coffee and looked at Castle, suddenly remembering the embarrassing situation she'd found herself in that morning. It all came back to her; the softness of the shawl, its smell and her embarrassment. She felt her cheeks redden slightly and looked away from the writer.

"Having doubts?"

Eyes widened, Beckett looked up at Castle. Could he read her mind? "What?"

Castle took a step closer to her. "Are you having doubts about the Anderson case?"

"Oh… no. The case is closed. It's a sad story, but it's closed. No doubt about it," Beckett told him. Getting some of her confidence back, she grinned at Castle. "Which means you owe me a dinner."

Castle smiled at her. "I see. First you don't want to go, now I owe you one?"

"I think with all the shadowing you do, you owe me more than just a meal."

"A book series about a heroine based on you isn't enough for you?"

Beckett didn't have a comeback to that. "So, dinner?"

"Oh, yeah! Let's go."

Castle held out his arm. Beckett looked at him for a second, before hooking her arm through his. A tingle ran through her spine from the contact, which wasn't even skin-to-skin, she realized. She felt a blush appear on her face as they made their way over to the elevator. She wondered why and how Castle could have such an impact on her. She pushed the button with her free hand and made a point of not looking at Castle. She knew that looking at him would only worsen the blush. Fortunately for Beckett, the elevator doors soon opened with a ding and they stepped inside its small confines, unhooking their arms. Castle pushed the button for the ground floor and, within a matter of seconds, the doors closed.

"So, anywhere specific you'd like to go to?" he asked her, standing mere inches away from her.

"I don't know. What are you up for?"

"Italian," Castle replied. "But it's up to you, Detective."

"I could eat some Italian," Beckett agreed without needing time to ponder that option. "Italian is always good."

"Alright." He was glad she agreed for he already had in mind a specific place he'd like to take her to.

The elevator had made its descend to the ground floor. The doors opened and the duo stepped out, after which they headed outside and into the fresh evening air. They halted on the sidewalk in front of the station.

"Let me make a call," Castle said as he took his phone out of his pocket. He scrolled through his phonebook, found the number he was looking for and placed the call.

"Nothing too exclusive, Castle," Beckett warned him.

"Why not?" he asked her as he waited for the chosen restaurant to answer his call.

"I'm not dressed for it."

"You look perfect, as you always do," Castle told her in all seriousness, making Beckett blush once again, before he spoke into the phone. "Hello Antonio, it's Rick Castle. I was wondering if you'd happen to have a table for two available."

Despite the compliment, Beckett shot him a glare. She didn't want to eat at a place where she would have to worry about her outfit, instead of enjoying the food and the company she was in. "Castle…"

"Yeah, for tonight. That's perfect. We'll see you in a bit," Castle said, before he ended the call. He looked at Beckett. "So, that's taken care of."

"Are you sure we're dressed appropriately for that place?"

"Don't worry, Antonio will give us a table with some privacy. Nobody will notice us."

Beckett studied the expression on Castle's face for a moment, trying to decipher his intentions. The dinner was beginning to sound a lot like a date now and the giddy smile on his face did nothing to disprove that theory.

"Let's walk, it's only a few blocks from here."

Castle, once again, held out his arm and she hooked hers through his again without thinking twice. The tingle wasn't there, but the feeling was the same. If it didn't slow them down catching criminals, she could have gotten used to walking this way all the time.

They walked to the restaurant in silence. Castle usually was a very talkative person, which made Beckett wonder if he was as nervous about the dinner as she was suddenly becoming. When she'd told him semi-jokingly that he owed her a dinner, she had expected for them to grab a quick burger at Remy's, not for him to take her out to a nice Italian restaurant.

When the pair arrived at Casa di Antonio, Castle opened the door for her and let her step inside the restaurant first. Castle hadn't even closed the door behind them yet, or the restaurant's owner already came to greet them. The two men amicably shook hands and then Castle introduced Beckett and Antonio to one another. After the introductions, Antonio led the two to a candlelit table in the back of the restaurant.

Beckett and Castle sat down across from each other and were handed menus. Castle immediately handed his back to Antonio, telling him he'd have his usual. Antonio told Beckett to ignore Castle's hasty decision-making, to take her time and that he would come back later to take her order.

"What's your usual?" Beckett asked him curiously when Antonio had left.

"Bruschetta for starters, followed by the Chef's lasagna."

"Mmm… sounds good, maybe I'll have the same."

"Please don't."

Beckett raised her eyebrows, inviting him to explain his quick reply.

"Then there's nothing for me to steal from your plate," he told her with a wink.

"Well, if you're intending to steal my food, you might just end up owing me another dinner."

"I don't think I would mind," he replied in all seriousness.

Beckett didn't know how to react to that, decided it was easier not to react at all and looked at her menu instead. "How's the pasta Carbonara here?"

"Delicious. In fact, it's Alexis' favorite."

"Good. Then I've made my choice."

Castle smiled at her, then beckoned Antonio over. The restaurateur came back to their table and asked if Beckett had made a choice. She told him she'd have the bruschetta as well as the pasta Carbonara. Antonio nodded and promised to bring over a nice bottle of red wine to go with the bruschetta.

"So, you come here often?" Beckett asked Castle, knowing it sounded like a bad pick-up line, but she honestly wanted to know. In actuality, she wanted to know how often he came here with a date, but she was too scared to ask. And, perhaps, to find out.

"Not as much as I used to."

"And certainly not with such a lovely lady," Antonio added charmingly, obviously having overheard their conversation as he brought over the bruschetta and wine.

Put at ease, Beckett couldn't hide her smile. Antonio opened the bottle of wine and poured Castle a glass. The writer tasted and approved the wine, after which Antonio poured both Castle and Beckett a full glass.

"Bon appetite, my friends."

When Antonio had left their table, Castle held up his glass. "No matter how horrible the outcome, we came here to celebrate having solved yet another case. Let's toast to the positive part of that."

Beckett held up her glass and clinked it with Castle's. "To our partnership."

To the casual observer, they were just three simple everyday words, but to hear that Beckett viewed him as a partner touched Castle deeply. He sent her a warm smile in gratitude. "To our partnership."

Beckett returned the smile and took a sip of her wine. She decided it was a good thing she had taken the next day off work. That way, she could enjoy the wine to its maximum. She didn't have a lot of knowledge about wines and their bouquets, but she trusted her taste buds to tell her what was good and what wasn't. The wine certainly belonged to that first category. She hoped to place the bruschetta there as well. She picked up a piece of bruschetta with olive oil and prosciutto and took a bite.

"This is really good," she remarked after she'd swallowed the first bite.

Castle nodded as he took a bite of bruschetta as well. "I know. Antonio's the best."

"I can tell," she replied. She took another sip of wine. Instead of swallowing the dark red liquid, she let it roll around in her mouth, exposing it to all of her taste buds. She closed her eyes for a split second, then swallowed. When she opened her eyes, she noticed that Castle was staring at her. The intenseness of it made her blush for the umpteenth time that day. She tried to fool herself into thinking it was caused by the alcohol and not the handsome man sitting across from her. She, however, knew that wasn't the truth.

Castle smiled amorously, his eyes never leaving hers. "You're beautiful when you blush."

Beckett was the one to look away. "It's just the wine."

Castle decided not to push her. "It's an excellent wine, isn't it?"

"Yeah," Beckett answered gratefully. "So, is this the restaurant Derek Storm takes Amanda out to at the end of _Brewing Storm_?"

"Actually it's a combination of this restaurant and another little Italian place I love to eat at," he replied. "I must take you there sometime. Antonio's cousin owns the place."

"Sounds good."

Castle grinned. "Did I just score myself another dinner with you?"

"Maybe," she answered. "I must admit that you seem to know all the great places. I suppose I should take advantage of that."

"You can take advantage of me anytime," Castle winked and then took another bite of bruschetta as he wondered how the detective would react to his declaration.

Beckett placed her elbows on the table, folded her hands together and rested her chin on her knuckles. She leaned across the table to Castle and this time around she wasn't afraid to look him in the eyes, studying him for a moment as she regained her confidence. "Really now? I can?"

Beckett bit her lip and Castle almost died right there. He swallowed hard, then reached out and took her folded hands in his own. "Anytime," he told her seriously.

Castle savored the feeling of her hands in his own, every cell of him noticing how soft her skin was. A little wave of pleasure ran from his hands through the rest of his body. He decided that he could sit with her like this forever. However, the moment was short-lived as a waiter arrived at their table with their main dishes, abruptly putting an end to the intensity of the moment.

Beckett quickly retracted her hands and placed them in her lap as she leaned back in her seat, so the waiter could place the large bowl of pasta in front of her. She waited until Castle was served as well, then they began to eat.

Over dinner they talked about Alexis' college plans, an old case of Beckett's and the Heat Wave movie. Their conversation went easy and before they knew it, they had finished their delicious tiramisu desserts. They drank a cup of espresso to finish off their dinner and then Castle paid the bill. After promising Antonio they'd come back soon, the duo left the restaurant.

Once outside, they stood silently on the sidewalk, taking in the sounds of the city. It was a typical spring night in New York and a subtle breeze swirled around them as they looked at each other somewhat awkwardly, not really sure about the next step. What to say? Where to go? What to do?

"So, sex?"

Beckett's eyes widened in disbelieve. "Excuse me?"

Castle grinned. "I'm kidding. Just trying to alleviate the sudden awkwardness between us."

"Well, good job," she told him sarcastically.

"I'm sorry," he said. "So, should we head back to the station for your car?"

"I can't drive now," she replied. "And you can't either," she quickly added. "We've both had wine. I guess I'll just pick it up tomorrow. It's my day off, anyway. Let's just walk."

"Alright. Where to?" he asked as Beckett began to walk already.

"My place? For a nightcap?" Beckett questioned unsurely as he'd caught up to her. "It's not too far from here."

Castle stopped walking. "Are you sure?" he asked and she turned to look at him. "My earlier remark didn't…"

"Don't worry about it. So, are you coming, or what?"

"Definitely," he replied, a little too quickly for his own taste, so he hastened to elaborate in an attempt to make it sounds less eager. "I'd like to see your new place."

* * *

**_Feedback is greatly appreciated!_**


	9. Chapter 9

**Chapter Nine**

* * *

Beckett put the key in the lock and opened the door as Castle stood behind her, anticipating whatever would come next. She invited him inside her apartment and they headed into the living room. She hadn't finished decorating her new place yet, but thankfully it felt like home to her already. She told Castle to make himself comfortable on her couch as she walked into the small kitchen to get a bottle of wine and two glasses. Beckett brought said items into the living room and placed them on the coffee table. She sat down next to Castle and opened the bottle. He silently watched as she did so.

"You know, Castle, you're actually my first guest," she told him as she poured the wine.

"Really? I feel honored," he replied. He accepted the glass of wine she offered him and held it up for a toast. "To your new home."

Beckett smiled and clinked her glass with his. "Thanks. I was lucky to find it."

"You were lucky to survive the explosion," he said seriously. His heart pounded, recalling the moment he'd thought he'd lost her. The blast of the explosion had been so intense that, to this day, he was amazed she'd survived the attack and was forever thankful for the guardian angel that had to have been on her shoulder.

The smile left Beckett's face as she remembered the heat, the odor and the sound that had filled her apartment. All of it was still fresh on her mind. "I know. If it wasn't for your call…"

"Let's not think about that right now."

"You're right," she replied and took a sip of wine, then placed the glass back on the table. As she did so, her sleeve crept up her wrist, exposing her father's watch. She stared at it with a smile and then looked back at Castle. "I can never thank you enough for finding the watch and getting it fixed."

"You _have_ already thanked me enough," he told her in between sips of wine. "I'm just glad I found it in the wreckage."

"So am I."

"So, let's talk about something less… depressing," he said, wanting to get her back in a better mood. "What will happen to Michael Anderson?"

Beckett raised her eyebrows in slight amusement. "Well, talk about depressing. He'll be charged with involuntary manslaughter. If he's lucky, he'll be sentenced to two years in prison. If he's really lucky, it might be ruled as accidental and excusable and he'll be going home."

Castle nodded. "Whatever the ruling, it'll probably be followed by a lifetime of punishment from his family," he added as he absentmindedly rubbed his neck.

Beckett couldn't help but notice the painful look flashing across his face. "What's the matter?" When she received a slight frown from him instead of an answer, she elaborated. "Your neck?"

"Oh, that. It's nothing. I think I need a new pillow. I keep waking up with a sore neck and spine."

"Let me give you a neck rub," Beckett replied before she even realized the words had left her mouth. Now that they had, she hoped he would accept her offer. Ever since they'd left the precinct together, arm in arm, she had been longing for more skin-to-skin contact. This seemed like the perfect opportunity. "Slide off the couch and sit between my legs."

"Well, that's an offer I can't refuse," Castle grinned, easing off the couch. He sat down with his back against the seat cushion, moving over to Beckett, so his shoulders were cradled between her thighs. He leaned his head slightly forward as her fingers began to expertly knead the muscles in his shoulders and neck. A muffled groan escaped his lips when an especially tight knot was prodded and worked loose by Beckett.

"Does that help?" she asked him, continuing the massage, her hands digging into the taunt flesh underneath her hands.

"Mmm," he sighed contently. "You're good at this."

"Happy to help out."

"I don't think I need a new pillow, I just need you."

"I already have a fulltime job, you know…"

"Too bad."

"Yeah, too bad," she whispered back into his ear.

The tone and breath of her whisper made a shiver of wanting run through Castle's body. He closed his eyes for a second and rolled his head to the side, exposing more skin. Beckett couldn't help but be mesmerized by what she saw. In her opinion, his neck looked so inviting to be kissed. She continued the massage, trying to think of other things than devouring Castle right then and there, but soon she couldn't resist the temptation any longer. Deciding to be bold, she leaned forward and gently placed her lips on the base of his neck. She let her lips rest there for maybe three heavenly seconds, then pulled back, nervously awaiting his reaction. Surprised to feel her lips on his neck, Castle craned his head over his shoulder and one blue eye gazed intently at Beckett. Her cheeks stained pink and her heart racing, she looked back at him. Neither one of them said a word, but the unresolved sexual tension between them screamed to be resolved.

Castle moved so that he was facing her entirely. The intensity of the moment – of his stare – suddenly scared Beckett. She wondered if she was doing the right thing. They had a good thing going, should she really risk that by allowing him to upset the apple cart? Or should she just follow her heart and give it what it wanted? And what exactly was it that she wanted?

"Wine," she said as she tried to get up from the couch, which was no mean feat since Castle was still positioned on the floor and in between her legs. "We need more wine."

Once she had managed to climb off the couch, she headed into the kitchen. Castle waited a moment, but then followed her. He was too curious to simply let their moment slip away. He found her standing at the counter, playing with the cork of the wine bottle.

"Kate?"

She turned around to face him, knowing she owed him an explanation. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have done that just then."

He took a few steps towards her and she felt the edge of the countertop connect with her back as she leaned back herself. The stone was cold on her skin.

Now standing only mere inches away from her, he could feel the heat radiating from her body. "You're absolutely right. You should've done that much sooner."

She looked at him with a slightly expectant expression as he closed the distance between them, their foreheads almost touching. She felt her breath catch in her throat. She found it unnerving to be trapped between him and the counter. Ever so slowly, he moved his lips to hers, closing the last remaining gap between them. The gentle brushing of lips quickly evolved into a soft kiss. Her head spun as heat spread to every ounce of her being. She had waited so long for this moment, she almost couldn't believe it was finally happening.

And it was fantastic.

Suddenly, all her inhibitions ran away from her. She ran her tongue over his lips, letting him know that she wanted in. He was quick to respond and opened his mouth slightly, giving her the opportunity to slip her tongue inside, leading him in a sensual dance that set both their bodies on edge.

All too soon, the moment ended, when Castle reluctantly broke away.

"I can't believe what I'm about to say, but I think I should go," he said, breathing heavily.

"Why?" she asked him, out of breath herself.

Castle brought his hand up to her face and rubbed her cheek with his thumb. "I'd like to take things slow, because I want to give this, us, a real shot. I want you to know I take this seriously. If I don't leave now, I don't think I'll have the willpower to tear myself away from you later."

Beckett just nodded. She was disappointed, but at the same time she knew that he was right. For them to make it work, it was better to take it slow.

Castle sighed, then slowly turned to leave the kitchen. Beckett followed him over to her front door. They paused in front of it and she sent him a bittersweet smile. He grabbed her hand in his own, squeezed it meaningfully and then she opened the door for him.

"See you tomorrow?" she asked him and he nodded.

When Castle had left her apartment, Beckett closed the door again, locking it. She closed her eyes and sighed deeply. She brought her right hand up to her lips and touched them with her index finger. They were still warm and swollen from their kiss in the kitchen. She couldn't prevent her body from reacting to the memory of their first kiss and a shiver ran across her skin.

She opened her eyes again and shook her head, amazed by the turn of events. She could have never predicted the night to end this way.

She walked over to her couch and plopped down, leaning her head back on the cushion. She watched the shadows as they danced on the ceiling and thought of Castle. And that unbelievable kiss. It had been passionate. It had been unbelievably spectacular. Phenomenal even. But it had also been forbidden. They were partners, perhaps not officially, but they worked together as though they were. They couldn't do this. Shouldn't have done this. She knew all of that, but realized that Castle was right – the heart wants what the hearts wants.

And maybe, for once, she shouldn't deny hers what it wanted the most.

She contemplated the possibility of a relationship with Castle. Could they really have one and still work together? She knew only time would tell, but she was ready to give it a chance because she felt that he was ready, too. He wanted to take things slow and that was a good sign. A change. What she had waited for.

She just hoped she had the self-control to hold up to her end of the deal.

**)()()()(**

Beckett had been sitting on the couch like that for maybe an hour, contemplating a future with the novelist, when there was a knock on her door. She turned to look at it, as if that would tell her who was on the other side of the thick wood. She stood up, walked over to the door and looked through the peephole. Upon seeing the person standing on the other side, her eyes widened and her heart skipped a beat. She quickly unlocked the door and opened it.

"Castle?"

He smiled warmly at her. "Hey."

"Hey," she replied, returning the smile. She let him inside and closed the door behind him. She wondered what he'd come back for – not that it didn't make her heart race with anticipation whatever the reason would be.

For a moment, the two of them stood in silence, the only sounds that could be detected in the room were the rapid beating of their hearts and their heavy breathing.

"Did you forget something?" she asked him finally, breaking the intense silence.

"Actually I did," he replied and then proceeded to show her what he'd kept hidden behind his back.

She hadn't even noticed.

"When I came home and walked into my study, I noticed this lying on my desk. I'd been waiting for the perfect opportunity to give it to you. I thought now might be a good moment," he told her and handed her the wrapped gift.

She eyed him. "What is it?"

"Actually, just an excuse to see you again," he grinned. "Just open it and you'll find out."

Beckett looked at the gift she was holding in her hands. The package felt heavy. Unable to contain her curiosity any longer, she tore off the wrapping paper. She held a rectangular carton box in her hands. She opened it and found out that he'd given her the manuscript of his latest novel. She eyed the title.

"Naked Heat," she said, reading the title out loud. "Really?"

Castle grinned. "Great, huh? Wait till you see the cover art."

She looked up and grinned back at him. "So typical."

She turned to the next page of the manuscript, her eyes landing on the dedication. Her laughter died down as she stared at the text as if in trance. _To Kate, my inspiration_, it read.

"Thank you," she said softly, touched by his words.

"You are my inspiration," he replied. "In so many ways."

"I don't know what to say," she told him as she closed the box and placed it on the armoire next to the door. She leaned in and showed her gratitude with a kiss on his cheek.

And then another one on his mouth.

Castle wrapped his arms around her, pulling her even closer to his body as he responded to her kiss. A moan escaped both their mouths as the kiss became more intense, momentarily forgetting about their agreement to take things slow, losing themselves in the moment, not wanting it to end.

And it didn't have to.

Before they knew what was happening, the sounds of kisses turned into words of passion, which turned into moans of pleasure and promises of a future together as partners in every sense of the word.

Love had hit them both in the heart.

* * *

**The End**

* * *

_**Feedback is greatly appreciated!**_


End file.
